Born as the Seventh Month Dies
by IvyIcy
Summary: AU. What if Harry had a twin? What if it was the twin who was the 'Boy who lived? Fast forward to sixth year and a returned Lord Voldemort.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue 

Godric's Hollow. 15 years ago.

A black shape cut through the thick banks of snow. It was hard to tell what it was, for the falling snow was beginning to thicken and shroud everything, but it appeared to be some sort of animal.

Whatever it was, it was running for its life. It charged straight ahead, ignoring the freezing cold and the piled snow that threatened to block its path altogether. Finally it slowed down and raised its muzzle, sniffing the air. It took a cautious step forward, sniffed, stepped forward again, then, to all intents and purposes, it vanished.

If a Muggle had been watching, they would surely have assumed it was just a trick of the light, something that can sometimes happen when the weather is strange. But a wizard would have supposed something else entirely.

Sirius Black shifted out of his Animagus form. He had finally got here. He'd raced past the wards as fast as he could, and the Potter residence, a modest two-storey villa, was in front of him. He paused to look up at the sky above. He couldn't see the Dark Mark, so perhaps he had got there on time. Then again, he couldn't see anything on account of the snow.

He pounded on the door.

'James! Lily! _James_!'

They had to answer, they had to be all right. He couldn't see any signs of damage to the house. Voldemort wasn't here yet.

'Lily! Please answer! It's life or death!'

That bastard Wormtail. First chance Sirius got, he would throttle him to death. But at the moment, there were more important things.

A light flickered on in the room on the other side of the door, he could see it through the glass. Was it them? was it really them? Or had Pettigrew set a trap for him?

'Sirius.' A bleary-eyed James opened the door. He looked a little out of it, perhaps he had been drinking. It _was_ almost Halloween after all.

'James, where's Lily? It's urgent.'

James opened his mouth, about to protest, then shut it again.

'I'm coming,' called Lily from somewhere above. 'I've just fed the babies.'

'James, he's betrayed you.'

'who?'

'Pettigrew. Who else?'

James' eyes widened, and a look of sickness swept over his features. 'No,' he said.

'Yes. I went to visit him today, check on him, see he was okay, that sort of thing. When I came in he was leaving. I guessed the rest. Made him tell me where you were. I would have killed him -.'

Lily, who had just now come down from the first floor, cried out at this point.

'I would have killed him, but he escaped. We have to get out.' Sirius suddenly stopped and looked about. 'Now!' he shouted, with increased concern. 'We have to get out _now_.'

As he said the word 'now' there was a flash of red light and a momentous cracking noise.

They did not need time to recognise the dark wixard standing before them. It was Voldemort, at the very height of his power. He held his wand delicately, not too loose, not too tight. Sirius did not wait for him to use it. He grabbed the Potters, tapped his wrist watch, and yelled, 'Portus!'

But at the last instant Lily broke away.

'No,' they heard her say, even as the world began to spin about them. 'My twins. Harry and Daniel. I must save them.'

They were Gryffindors, they couldn't leave her. And Sirius, remembering the children back at Godric's Hollow, felt hollow with remorse. What had he done? The babies.

When they came back Lily was dead. She was beautiful in death, her red hair spread about her like a mermaid's or an angel's. The babies were alive, thank heaven, though Daniel had a nasty gash on his forehead.

And Voldemort had gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One Diagon Alley, 7 years ago 

James Potter loved his sons. They were the only reminder he had of his lost wife. They were his beloved children. But he loved them in different ways. Daniel, lauded as the Boy-who-lived since his first birthday, was easy for James to get along with. Daniel, in most ways (personality, Quidditch skills, talent) was his father's son.

James' relationship with Harry, however, was more _complex_. It wasn't an easy love he had for Harry. Things between them were forever unsteady. Though Harry strongly resembled James in appearance (as opposed to James who had brilliant blue eyes and red hair) the similarity stopped there.

On Daniel's and Harry's ninth birthday they had all gone to Diagon Alley. The Potters had always had many friends, but never so many as now, after the Dark lord's defeat. Thus, the party at Fortescue's Icecream Parlour was overflowing with adults and children, and the present table was stacked high.

They'd unwrapped the presents. Daniel seemed to get more than Harry – not surprising as people did forget that the Boy-Who-Lived had a brother. Harry tried not to show how forgotten about he felt but it was difficult. Daniel was showered with expensive, exciting gifts, whereas Harry's seemed to be afterthoughts: a Gobbling Terrapin with a blackberry shell – the flavour no one liked - , one of the wig charms that had gone out of fashion last year, an outdated Quaffle which had the old cone-shape… things like that.

Just as Harry was thinking this, Daniel pulled apart the wrapping on his latest present and shrieked with joy – it was a Nimbus 99, the best broom on the market right now. Daniel, who loved flying, got on the broom at once and took off. He soared through the air, doing loop-to-loops and dives, lapping up the 'oohs' and 'aahs' of the sympathetic crowd.

James eventually told him to get down, but not before Daniel had stood on his broom in mid-air and done a smug little bow. Harry couldn't stand it. When Daniel returned to his present-unwrapping (harry had finished his meagre pile some time ago) he chose a glossy green package.

He undid the white ribbon, and eased open the lid of the box, plunging his hand in to see what he had received. No sooner had he done so than he jerked back in fear. Harry came forward, wondering what ailed his brother.

In a second the problem was obvious. A cobra, thicker than a man's arm, reared up out of the box. It stared at Daniel, who stared back, mere inches from its face, and petrified. Harry felt his stomach clench. The snake looked like it was going to strike. He didn't get on with his brother but he had to do something.

He couldn't just sit back and wait. He sprang towards his brother, pushing him out of the way. But he tripped over and found himself on the ground, within striking range of the snake. No one moved. No one even said anything. They didn't want to cause the snake to bite.

'Please don't bite me,' Harry mumbled. 'Please.'

He was shocked when the snake hissed, a sound that was almost a sigh, and said, 'Don't worry. I never intended to. Though I would like to sink my fangs into the one who disturbed me.'

It examined him curiously an instant, flicked its tail, then settled back into the box.

Harry got up from the ground, shaking a little but otherwise fine. The crowd of people were still silent. Wary, they were staring at him. He wondered what the problem was. The party broke up, the people drifted away, muttering darkly, and James, helped by his friends Sirius and Remus, started packing up the presents.

'What's wrong?' Harry asked his father.

'That snake – it was a Teneber Viper. Its poison is deadly, and impervious to magical treatment, just as its hide is to curses. Daniel could have been killed. Someone wanted him to be killed.'

Daniel was currently being treated for shock by Remus' niece Joan, a Mediwitch in training. Harry watched him for a second, then said, 'I don't think the snake was that bad. If he hadn't woken it, maybe…'

James looked at Harry tensely.

'Dad,' Harry said. 'I could understand the snake.'

Harry hadn't known what his father's reaction would be. Surprise, disbelief, maybe even pleasure – Harry displaying some talent for once, some special trick, instead of the usual Daniel. His father might be pleased.

But James simply rubbed his forehead furiously with his hands and groaned.

'Harry, I know you could understand the snake. I know – and soon every flipping wizard and witch in Britain will know. You spoke to it – you hissed at it.'

'No I didn't.'

'Yes you did.' He groaned again. 'Harry, you're a Parselmouth, you speak to snakes.'

Harry began to feel defensive.

'So? What's wrong with that?'

'Harry, being a Parselmouth is a trait of a dark wizard. _Voldemort_ was a Parselmouth. How does it look if the brother of the Boy-who-lived is a Parselmouth? It's – it's not good. In future, try not to talk to snakes, or even go near them. It wouldn't do to remind people. It makes them – they won't trust you. They'll be suspicious.'

'Great. I don't even know when I'm doing it and I'll be blamed for it.'

James patted him on the back apologetically.

'I'm sure you're all right at heart, Harry.'

Harry pulled away, annoyed.

'What is it? Do _you_ think I'm some sort of dark wizard dad?'

'Harry, please.'

Harry shrugged. He did not speak to his father again that day.

In fact James was even more distressed about the incident than he let on to his son. He was horrified that Harry could be – could be a _Parselmouth_.

'How can I look him in the eyes?' he moaned to Sirius that evening.

Sirius, who had matured somewhat since Lily's death, shook his head.

'You're not being reasonable, James. He can't help it. And it doesn't mean he's bad. It's just an outward thing. He's good – you're forgetting that he saved Daniel.'

'Yeah, you're right,' said James. 'I am being silly.'

'Wait and see, he'll be Sorted into Gryffindor.'

'Of course he will,' James said, reassuring himself.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 5 years ago

'Potter, Daniel.'

There was hush in the Great Hall as the boy settled on the stool, and put the tattered Sorting Hat over his dark red hair.

'Gryffindor!' it shouted.

Cheering followed.

Once the cheering had abated sufficiently, McGonagall read the next name:

'Potter, Harry.'

The dark-haired boy took the hat, trying to hide his nerves. He was on the seat a very long time. The students grew bored and some commenced quietly chatting to each other.

'Slytherin!' the Hat said happily and Harry Potter, his face a mix of hope, dread and shock, made his way over to the Slytherin table.

There was fitting astonishment – he _was_ the brother of the Boy-who-lived, after all, and a member of the Potter family – but he was soon forgotten, and the students turned their attention to the rest of the Sorting Ceremony.

James Potter did not forget though. From that day on, a rift formed between him and Harry. Sometimes James wondered if he could even have a son like that – but Harry looked too much like him to deny it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two 

Present Day, Potter Castle

The ancestral home of the Potter family was a squat grey fort-like structure which, despite its ugliness, managed to convey a sense of sturdiness and strength.

It was broad daylight. Someone was reading a book on top of the walls. Harry couldn't tell who it was but he sighed with jealousy (a feeling he was not unused to). He had just got back from his job at Diagon Alley, and was sweaty and irritable from the hours he'd spent in a stuffy shop. Since Voldemort had returned most places had boarded up their windows, trying, ineffectually, to improve security.

The shop Harry was working at had also received a glut of customers in recent times, spurred by the Dark Lord's rise. This wasn't because it sold anti-dark arts equipment, but because it was situated in Knockturn Alley and supplied illegal goods, mostly potion ingredients. The Ministry probably could and should have shut it down, but they were too busy, and not about to close the shop now, when they hadn't made any attempt to during the previous years of its existence.

Harry peered up at the person on the battlements a second, thought it might well be Remus, and wandered into the house. He made himself a sandwich, sat back in the kitchen, and began his Arithmancy homework. It involved a lot of diagrams, and spiral symmetry, and he was quite absorbed in it when Daniel came in.

The other boy had obviously been exercising, probably flying or running around in Animagus form. He poured himself a glass of lemonade, and sat down opposite and a little across from Harry.

'Hello.'

'Hello.'

'What are you doing?'

'Arithmancy homework.'

'That's hard, isn't it?'

It was. Harry resented that everything Daniel did came easily to him. Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, Herbology…

'You were flying?'

'Yep. I've mastered the Wronski feint, can't wait to show it to Ron.'

'Well done.'

This civilised conversation couldn't last.

It didn't.

'What's that?' said Daniel.

'Arithmancy homework. I said so already.'

'No, I mean that.'

He pointed at a small bottle of viscous black liquid that was half poking out of Harry's bag. Damn. It was Lethifold Essence he'd bought from the shop and, as such, highly illegal in Britain.

'The juice of crushed shark eggs. I need it for a potion.'

'I'm not an idiot,' Daniel said. 'That stuff's banned.'

'I'm not sure if it is or it isn't,' Harry said. 'Honestly, someone gave it to me.'

'Probably one of your Slytherin friends. I'd be careful of anything they gave you.'

'I don't really care. Why do you have such a problem about me making illegal potions when you and dad are both unregistered Animagi – from an _illegal potion_?'

'Yeah, but it's not like we're Slytherin, or talk to snakes, or practise curses on Leo when no one's watching.'

Leo was the statue of a lion by the living room fire. How did Daniel know about that? Harry was always so careful to clean up afterwards, same as with the potions and the books.

'Dad's worried about you,' said Daniel, in a consoling, almost patronising, tone. 'Especially with you spending every day this holidays at Knockturn Alley.'

Harry's eyes widened. How did he know? _How_?

It clicked, of course. Those new glasses his dad had given him the other day (another source of envy! – Daniel had perfect eyesight). They must have some spell on them. Perhaps James could see what Harry saw, something like that.

In any case, it was manifestly stupid of Daniel to tell him about it.

'How Gryffindor of you two to spy on me. Honour and all that.'

'It's for your own good.'

'He doesn't want to look out for me, all he wants to do is preserve the Potter name from shame. I think I can decide what I do for myself.'

Harry got up, took his Arithmancy homework and his bag, and went to sit on Griffen Way. The Way was on the north side of the castle, so it was always shrouded in shadow. Harry sat down and took the opportunity to examine his glasses, tapping them occasionally. He thought the glass had a slight orange tint to it – the Spionis Charm might have been the one his father had cast.

He put his glasses back on and was just opening his books when he felt something hit him on the back. He sprung to his feet and looked up angrily. Someone had thrown a stone at him from the top of the walls. But he couldn't see anyone there.

'Oy!' he shouted. 'Who did that?'

He saw a slight ripple in the air above. He felt suddenly cold with dread, like icy water had drenched his body. People – under a Disillusion Charm – were there above. He heard a voice cry 'Stupefy', but was alert enough to jump out of the way. A red beam of light drilled into the ground beside him.

He pressed himself up against the wall, where they couldn't hit him unless they leaned out a good metre from the crenellations, and thought. Who were they? It didn't seem like a prank. Death Eaters then, it couldn't be anyone else. They probably hadn't meant to catch his attention but had knocked the chip off the crumbling battlements that had alerted him.

He slid along against the wall. Should he make a run for it? No, he'd be seen and cursed. The castle was probably surrounded by Death Eaters anyway. But where could he go? It wasn't possible to App -

There was a bang. Someone had sent a Reducto Curse down on him. It hit the ground a few feet away, sending up a shower of stones.

Harry didn't think any more. He turned and ran along the wall, intent on getting away, getting somewhere that wasn't underneath a crowd of Death Eaters. He found a low wooden door, he thought it led into the cellars, it was as good an escape route as any. He heaved it open, darted in, and shut it.

Now he had some shelter, if only temporary. The Death Eaters were above. If it was him they wanted, they'd still have to get down to ground level.

And Harry didn't think it was him they were after.

They were here for his brother, there was no doubt about it. Ever since his return, the Dark Lord had expressed an unusual desire to kill Daniel Potter. Harry could understand the revenge motive, and it was a strong one, but it seemed the Dark Lord's determination was driven by more than vengeance. He had other things now – increasing power, a legion of supporters – so why was he obsessed with bringing the sixteen-year-old down? It was almost, Harry felt, as if Voldemort regarded Daniel as a threat. Which didn't make sense at all.

Harry crouched in the cellar, stared at his wand a second, and belatedly sent out an Alarm spell. The air instantly filled with the high-pitched wail of a siren. At least the others would have some chance now, some warning.

Then he waited. He couldn't Floo, they'd been disconnected from the Network for safety reasons. Nor could he Apparate – wards prevented any such activity in the vicinity of Potter castle. He wished he'd stayed at the shop, sorted the new deliveries or something.

The cellar door rattled – not the one which led outside, but the one which went up to the castle. Harry got up, at a complete loss as to what to do. The door rattled again, then bulged forward under some external force, a spell probably.

Harry held his wand aloft. The door would open, there was nothing he could do. He could hide, but he'd probably be found. He did the only thing that came to mind. With a wave of his wand, he transfigured his clothes into a black robe, an ugly anonymous mask. Death eater garb.

The door finally burst open. Two robed figures came in.

'There's no one,' Harry said. 'I already checked.'

Let his voice be unrecognisable, let them believe him.

They stared at him immobile, and he imagined looks of disbelief pass beneath their masks, but they accepted him, perhaps because of his sheer confidence. 'Fine. Let's move on,' one, a raspy-voiced woman, said.

'The door was unlocked you know,' Harry told her.

And then, before they could question him, he pushed past them and up the stairs into the house. They followed him as he led the way, a bit too assuredly, through the hallways and stairs of the house. He went where he thought the Potters least likely to be, of course, but it didn't seem like it would make any difference. The house was swarming with Death Eaters. And yet there was no sign of resistance.

Harry puzzled over this fact, wondering where Daniel and James could be, but he was immediately interrupted by shouting and a sharp scream. It seemed to come from the dining room. The Death Eaters near him rushed towards it. Harry froze a moment in indecision: he could probably escape now, while they were all busy… but could he leave his family alone?

He sprinted after the Death Eaters. A glance around told him that no one was watching, and he took his chance, Stunning the two in sight from behind. That evened things a little. He went to run forward then baulked. How could he help Daniel and James, after all? He'd probably get himself killed… and they might even end up cursing him, dressed as he was.

He slunk away from the sounds of fighting, and headed for the back of the house as quickly and stealthily as he could. As he finally neared the threshold of the castle walls, a hand closed around his shoulder. He started, unable to stop himself, and turned around, whipping his wand up.

Had he been found out? Did they know who he was?

But the Death Eater he found himself face to face with did not move.

'Running away?' he reprimanded Harry. 'Or are you interested in obtaining some of the Potter wealth?'

'N-no,' Harry said. 'I thought I heard a noise… just making sure. Invisibility cloaks, you know.'

'Ah. Of course,' the Death Eater said, voice infused with irony.

Harry suggested they go help the others and the man didn't protest. The scene that met them when they arrived was one of chaos. Death Eaters under the effects of hexes lay on the ground, some writhing around or whimpering in pain. Many more were engaged in fighting two men and their target, Daniel Potter.

Daniel and James, each with identical looks of concentration, were throwing curses. Remus, behind them, appeared to be performing some complicated charm, occasionally breaking off to repair the shield that surrounded the three men. But despite their obvious determination, and James' constant barrage of spells, they were heavily outnumbered.

Harry felt helpless as the Death Eaters around him pushed forward. He dodged his brother's curse, then surreptitiously cast his own Stunning Spell, apparently accidentally hitting one of the Death Eaters in front of him. No one appeared to notice. Encouraged, he mumbled 'Protego', sending a burst of blue light to strengthen his relatives' shield.

He again glanced around to check if anyone had seen and was unnerved to find the Death Eater who had accompanied him staring at him, eyes boring through his mask. Harry stumbled, making as if he had been hit, and hurried away from the room. Nothing more he could do without risking certain death.

He made his way down the corridors. Once he was out of sight he burst into a run. Someone called out behind him and he found that the same Death Eater was following him. Harry was still in the man's cursing range, so he had no choice but to stop and hazard a duel.

The Death Eater followed suit, pulling up and fingering his wand.

'The Dark Lord doesn't take kindly to imposters,' he said.

'I'm not an Imposter,' Harry said, but he knew no amount of sworn lies would save him now. He began to pull his left sleeve back. He'd get the man to focus on his (Dark Mark- free) arm, then curse him while he was distracted.

But the Death Eater didn't even look, keeping his eyes firmly on Harry's wand.

'Catch Potter,' he said, and flung something at him. Harry didn't catch it, nor did he have time to dodge out of the way, and as the thing hit him he felt a violent lurch. The Death Eater and the scene faded and he found himself in the Headmaster's Office.

He'd been here only once before, in his Fourth year when he'd gotten in a ton of trouble for forging teachers' signatures. The room wasn't empty. The Headmaster, James and Daniel Potter, and Remus Lupin were there, all pointing their wands at him.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, they'd managed to escape. Little as he liked them, he didn't want them dead. Before they could curse him, he pulled off the mask.

'Harry,' said Professor Black. He let his wand arm relax, as did Remus, but the Potters still watched him warily.

Harry muttered a charm and let his clothes revert to their original form. Once the Death Eater robes were gone, the atmosphere in the room became a lot less tense, though Daniel was still scowling.

'I transfigured my clothes. What else could I do? Then one of the Death Eaters caught me out. But he must have been a spy, or an imposter like me, because he gave me a Portkey.'

'That's the same way we got out. We were starting to worry about you. Remus here thought you might have been captured, but it's good to know you can take care of yourself.'

- _Taking care of himself and fleeing the fight, like a good little Slytherin does_, was the unspoken comment which, even if Sirius hadn't intended it, still hung in the air.

What followed this talk was a discussion of the wards on Potter Castle, whether it would be wise to return there, where Daniel could stay instead, how had the Death Eaters had bypassed the protections and alarms, and various other topics of importance.

Harry ever so slightly resented the camaraderie that seemed to exist between the three men and Daniel. Sirius, like Remus, was an old friend of James. Harry had actually heard that in the past, Sirius had been an outgoing prankster, lively and cheerful. There was not much sign of any rebellious streak now, if that had ever been the case. Sirius was Headmaster of Hogwarts, and had been for seven years now, since Dumbledore had quit to become Minister of Magic. He took his position seriously, though he was occasionally subject to impulsive actions. Back in fourth year he had expelled Harry in a fit of rage, though thankfully something or someone had changed his mind and got him to reverse the decision.

'Remus's place isn't exactly the most savoury of homes, though, Sirius. I seem to remember him telling us about a Door-knock Jinx that his aunt put on -.'

'I suppose you have a point. But what other option is there? I mean, Regulus has Grimmauld Place. Otherwise I would offer, but with the amount of cursed objects in the house, with a Death Eater to boot -.'

Here Harry interrupted.

'Let me make myself clear, sir. I am sixteen, next year I will be a wizard in my own right. The Dark Lord doesn't want to kill me, or at least, not enough to launch a full-fledged raid. So I am not risking my life by staying with _them_.'

James glared at him.

'Be fair. Don't force it on me. I mean, I don't get any say in the matter. If I weren't the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, I wouldn't have nearly died today. I'd be living a perfectly peaceful life. Why can't you at least give me that?'

'A Slytherin exhorting us to be fair,' sneered James.

Harry shrugged.

'I'll be staying at the school for the rest of the holidays.'

He left the office. James was about to follow him, furious, but Remus stopped him.

'Come on James. You're being over the top. Harry may not be particularly altruistic, but it must have been him who cast the Alarm Spell.'

James reluctantly agreed, and sat down to continue the discussion.

Yes, I know the Potters almost definitely don't have a castle (if they did, Harry would know about it) and I know James is getting an unfair wrap, but, in the next chapter it will become quite clear that all the blame is _not_ on his side, as Harry makes plans to take a decidedly **large** step away from Potter family tradition.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thankyou so so much for the reviews. **fifespice**, there was a reason for the parselmouth thing, and **fireyhell **(lovely name btw :-) ) I can't say right now re the chosen one. 

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Chapter Three 

Hogwarts

The school year moved ahead as usual. Daniel Potter ended up staying at the school as well, though his father went to stay at Remus' house. The two brothers saw each other only at meals. Daniel made a point of acting as if Harry didn't exist, and Harry did more or less the same.

He was free to come and go as he pleased, and spent the time in pleasant study. Slytherin house was more smug than usual on the first day, and there was an atmosphere of excitement hanging round the table. Harry didn't get to find out what it was. He was a Potter, and as such, his house had ostracised him for many years. Even more so now, when his company was poison – they assumed he would run to Sirius immediately if they mentioned anything to do with Voldemort or the Dark Arts.

Draco, talking in furious low whispers with a friend, Theodore Nott, was therefore surprised when Harry interrupted him later on in the evening. He hadn't realised that the Potter boy was sitting only one along from him on the table, and had a nasty shcok when the boy coolly informed him that, 'You mean a Internecus Curse? I doubt an Antinicia Charm could have the same effect.'

Draco was naturally put off at being corrected, but he caught himself from biting back.

'Really Potter?' he said. 'I'll keep that in mind.'

He wasn't referring to the information about the respective curses though, but about the unlikely acquaintance Potter seemed to have with the Dark Arts. He must remember to tell Father.

There were a few developments in the structure of the school. The Groundskeeper was on temporary leave, holidaying in France, and there was a new Potions teacher. His name was Snake, or something like that. Harry noted that Sirius was distinctly unhappy when he introduced him, almost as if he were reluctant to have him at the School.

'My godfather,' Draco said loudly. 'He's the new Head of Slytherin too.'

'The figurehead, that is,' a quick-witted Seventh Year said. 'We all know who our real Head is.'

Harry frowned, but secretly he was wondering if it wasn't best to go with the flow. What else could he do?

A lot, he admitted guiltily, but most of it meant a large risk of death.

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The first attempt on Daniel's life came in the third week. It began ostensibly as a prank, outside the Charms classroom. Daniel and Weasley, the pair distinctive because of their red hair, were on their way to lunch.

Without warning a shower of fireworks went off nearby. The boys laughed. Someone was having fun, good, it took away some of the tension that had been building up at Hogwarts since the start of the school year.

But very soon, things went wrong. One of the rockets shot towards Daniel. He ducked and let it go past, with the agile ease of a hardened Quidditch player. But it simply looped back around and headed towards him once more. He dodged it again, but it still went at him, only faster. He jumped aside, barely missing it this time.

'This isn't funny,' he growled. 'Ron, do something!'

But the rocket was too fast to hit with a spell. Daniel barged into one of the vacated classrooms and slammed the door shut behind him. The rocket shot through it like butter. Daniel felt his knees weaken. If it could do that to solid wood, how much worse would it do to soft flesh?

He dived behind a row of desks but the rocket just ploughed through them, shooting green sparks. Daniel charged out of the Charms classroom and sprinted down the hallway, not knowing what to do. People stared. He panted, his breath was hoarse. It would get him in the end. The cursed thing would get him. It was rushing behind him, he bent and it shot over his head, whistling through his hair. It turned, headed towards him –

Immobilus!' Someone cried out.

The cursed firework froze in the air, sparks still spurting from its tail. These eventually fizzled out and the thing dropped to the ground, made a hissing sound, and exploded with a bang. The explosion, however, was harmless, merely sending cardboard and tinsel showering down on the students.

'That – someone was flipping trying to kill me!' Daniel exclaimed. 'How could that happen?'

He was extremely shaken. He felt weak, helpless – he'd always been so confident, naturally talented, better than his peers – there'd never been any reason to suppose himself inferior. Yet he was unable to protect himself from a simple hexed rocket. It was a shattering feeling.

'Daniel, you're all right?'

It was Sirius. Someone or other, probably Ron, had rushed to his office to fetch him and he had arrived on the scene just on time. Though he presented a calm façade, he was just as shaken as Daniel; the school was meant to be safe! He escorted his godson to the Infirmary under the shocked gaze of the students.

'Daniel,' he said, as they entered the domain of Madam Pomfrey, 'I think we'll have to step your training up a bit. And you can't keep skipping your lessons with Professor Snape. He's quite livid about it. I might have to let him dock points.'

'The man's a git, Sirius.'

'That may be, but we brought him especially to the school for you. I know it may be awful, but it's very important you ward your mind and dreams. We can't have Voldemort finding out sensitive information.'

Daniel nodded, then sighed and leaned back on the hospital bed.

Sirius shook his head. 'I'm sorry Daniel. I shouldn't be scolding you after what just happened.'

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A little while after this incident, as Halloween drew to a close, Draco Malfoy found himself waiting on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He had arranged a meeting there with Harry Potter.

He'd sized Harry up over the past few weeks, dropping hints here and there, watching his response closely. Draco was still taking a risk, but, his father told him, it was worth it. 'It is useful to have friends among His ranks. We have the Lestrange faction to contend with, as well as Crouch, and we need all the support we can get.'

His father, a careful man, would perhaps not have approved of meeting Potter on the brink of the Forbidden Forest, during the dead of night. If Harry were to tell, it would be much harder to explain away than a casual daylight meeting by the Lake. But Draco didn't think like this. He found all this cloak and dagger stuff appealing and besides, he knew for a fact that there were Eavesdropping Spells in the Slytherin Common Room and throughout the school. Probably around the Great Lake too, where students often met.

Potter was taking his time. Where _was_ he?

No sooner had Draco thought this than Harry appeared, not from the Hogwarts side, but out of the forest.

'What were you doing?' Draco demanded, eyes narrowing.

'Waiting for you. What did you want to talk about?'

Draco was initially silent. He hadn't expected such directness.

'Do you know why you're here, Potter?' he said finally.

'I think so. The answer is yes. I've thought about it, and decided that my family can go rot. I hope the Dark Lord will be understanding once he knows of my willingness.'

Draco hadn't expected it to go so well. He wondered, thinking back on the preceding weeks, whether it hadn't been _Potter_ dropping the hints and casting allusions.

'There are two others joining on Saturday night. My father's bringing them.'

'I'll come too.'

And it was as easy as that to enter the Dark Lord's circle.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four 

They met, surprisingly enough, at Hogsmeade. Sixth and fifth years were allowed into the village on weekends these days. Younger years were deemed too defenceless, but Sirius and the other teachers were unwilling to deprive Hogsmeade of its customers altogether, and so the older students still went, taking requests and orders from those below Sixth year.

Malfoy and Harry, along with the two other students – Theodore Nott, who had been expecting to join for some time now, and a girl from the year above, Clora Trefoil – bought sweets, had Butterbeers, and waited outside a cauldron supplier's.

Harry inquired if there were any others at the school.

'Of course,' Draco responded.

'But it's too risky for them to come?'

'Correct. There's always a risk. You're only ever gone a few hours, but if they found out… still, you three are all in different years, so it should be okay. None of us go to meetings, just like no one at the Ministry does – at least, not usually. They have to keep cover. It's – ah, father, how are you?'

For Malfoy Senior had just Apparated into the street.

'Perfectly well. I'm glad to see you're punctual. So who have we here…? Miss Trefoil, Theodore, nice to see you young man, and, why, Potter! You agreed! What a surprise to see you here.'

Harry put up with Lucius Malfoy's feigned shock. He'd found out that the 'other' Potter boy had decided to become a Death Eater some time ago. Nonetheless, he couldn't resist indulging himself.

'The world's turning on end lately. And you really would do that to your own blood?'

'The Dark Lord killed his parents,' Harry said tersely. 'And I too would like to free myself from the tainted ties of my blood. Are we going?'

He wanted the conversation to end. It was only six o'clock, and they were smack in the middle of a Hogsmeade street. Malfoy took the advice, bad his son farewell, and Disapparated along with the three students.

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'Decided to finally honour me with your presence, Mr Potter?'

'Yes.' Daniel glared at the sallow man on the opposite side of the desk. The man, Professor Snape, sneered back, his eyes glowering with loathing.

Daniel had at first been startled as to why the new Potions teacher disliked him so much, but a word with his father soon clarified things. The two had been dire enemies in school. James reassured his son by telling him a few funny stories about Snape and he'd felt a little better, laughing about the man. In person, however, it was a lot harder to treat Snape lightly.

'Shall we begin then?'

'Yes,' said Daniel. 'I'd like to get this over with.'

Snape looked him in the eyes and assailed his mind, almost before Daniel had finished speaking.

Daniel mentally scrambled to block him, but was too late. He was distracted by his anger and dislike, and memories began flooding him. Fourth year, the kidnapping, when it all went wrong, Bellatrix's cold hands around his neck, almost hugging him, the rusty dagger, the blood… he saw the two Muggles dying again, their throats had been slit with the Cutting Curse, and black blood –

Snape pulled away from his mind. Daniel found himself on the stone floor, his head throbbing. He got up and looked Snape in the face, who showed no signs of what he had seen.

'Again,' he said crisply.

The same thing happened again and again – memories, mostly painful, flashing before Daniel's eyes, Snape stopping when he fell over or, more rarely, managed to break away. Finally, Daniel hardly knew whether he was on the ground or not, his attempts at Occlumency walls in complete tatters.

Though he would have liked to, he didn't ask Snape to stop. He was a Gryffindor and a Potter. He could outlast it. _He_ wouldn't be the one to give in. But he rethought this when his scar started to hurt. At first it was just a dull ache, lost in his larger headache. It grew worse, though, blossoming into a splitting pain.

Daniel was about to say something, explain.

'Sir,' he began. But Snape's eyes were already boring into his. The man entered his mind, his Occlumency shields all but obliterated, and the pain in his scar was so intense that he almost blacked out. But he didn't.

Instead a familiar sight – a circle of Death Eaters – wavered before him, and he knew he was looking through Voldemort's eyes.

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They arrived at the meeting late or, Harry reflected as the circle of Death Eaters widened to admit the three newcomers, just on time. Everyone was there to see them come, to intimidate the three new recruits who had not even finished school.

And the intimidation was not lost on Harry, who felt terribly exposed. He, Clora and Theodore were the only three not wearing masks, and they were completely surrounded by the cloaked Death Eaters. But this was nothing compared to the Dark Lord himself.

He appeared soundlessly, his Apparation not even causing a rustle. A snake coiled lovingly around him. He stroked it momentarily, then dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

'My lord,' said Lucius Malfoy, stepping forward. 'I have brought you some new blood as you wished.'

He indicated the three Hogwarts students.

'They know what following me entails?' Voldemort said. 'They know that complete devotion is required? They know that adherence to our principles is on pain of death? And they know the benefits that accompany it?'

'Yes, my lord, they do. They are eager to serve you.'

Lucius pushed the first of the students forward, Theodore Nott. Harry suspected that he was being left till last, and wasn't too pleased about it. He didn't want to lose his nerve.

'What is your name?'

The boy opened his mouth, but the Dark Lord cut in before he could speak. 'Theodore Nott, is it? I am pleased to see so many following in the footsteps of their parents. You are very young, however.'

He paused as if in thought. Harry wondered whether he was rummaging through Nott's mind.

'My lord knows that youth is no barrier to ambition. My lord knows that young students must grow into wizards one day,' said Nott hurriedly, in what were obviously prepared lines.

The Dark Lord did not seem to mind. He listened to the boy's self-justification, nodded once, and ordered the boy to his knees. He said something too low for Harry to hear, Nott clearly replied 'I do,' and something black and sinuous shot out of Voldemort's wand and seemed to burrow into Nott's skin.

The same process was repeated for Clora, only this time the Dark Lord was less forbearing. He wanted to know why Clora felt she had anything to offer to him. She was a weak witch, almost a squib. Clora, nearly in tears, nattered about her family being well-connected on the Continent and she was finally accepted.

It was with relish that Lucius, at last, presented Harry to Lord Voldemort.

'Harry Potter,' he said, his lips quirking.

The Dark Lord was thoughtful.

'Your godfather is the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Your father is Head Auror. Your twin brother is Daniel Potter.'

Many of the Death Eaters looked away at his last words. The Dark Lord was never happy when his attention was called to the Boy-who-lived.

Harry held his gaze on the Dark Lord, unflinching.

'I am not my brother, nor my father, nor my godfather,' he said, letting a sneer play about his lips at the mention of each member of his family. 'My lord, I am free to choose my own destiny, and I want to follow you. I would like to sever all ties with my family. I took the first step when I was Sorted into Slytherin. I would like to take the last with the killing of my father.'

Harry took a quick breath after the lie, hoping the Dark Lord was buying his story. Overall it was based on truth, so it should work.

'And how could you help me?' the Dark Lord said. His eyes met Harry's, and Harry felt the slight touch of Legillimency.

'I know some Dark Arts, such as you can learn from books. But obviously nothing compared to the things one can learn from you, my lord.'

In his mind's eye, Harry saw images of the books he'd read, memories of them and the curses flashing through his head. He willed himself to be calm, not to think of other, more compromising things, and eventually the touch of Voldemort's mind disappeared. He was satisfied, he had ascertained that Harry spoke truth.

'Kneel.'

Harry obeyed, and then bared his forearm on the next instruction.

The Dark Lord approached, gripped his shoulder. He forced Harry's head up and stared into his eyes. The Legillimency before was nothing compared to this now – this relentless pummelling of the Dark Lord's mind. Before it had been a faint brushing, an attempt to catch surface thoughts. Now the Dark Lord was ripping through his mind.

Harry again willed himself calm, ignoring the force that was attempting to uncover his deepest secrets. He thought of Daniel's arrogance, Daniel getting all the attention, Sirius' quick judgement of him, his father's distaste for him and clear preference for Daniel. Every time he'd been wronged, punished unfairly or neglected rose to the front of his mind. Harry let the hate surge through him, and with it his longing for power and recognition.

The Dark Lord searched for any memory that betrayed Harry, but Harry was not distracted. Caught up in a maelstrom of his basest feelings, he almost didn't notice when Voldemort's mental assault stopped.

'Do you serve me, to death or immortality?'

'I do.'

The Dark Lord said something that ended with '_Morsmordre'_ and, for the third time that night, something leapt out of his wand. Harry felt a momentary searing sensation as it burned into his skin. When he looked he saw a snake, curling out of a skull's mouth. It was already fading. Harry, feeling slightly numb, pushed his sleeve back and, on Voldemort's word, fell into the ranks next to the two other students. Someone passed a mask and he put it on.

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Severus Snape widened his eyes at what he was seeing. He had tried to pull away when he had first found himself seeing through the Dark Lord's eyes, but had been unable to. His mind was locked firmly to Daniel's, which was locked to the Dark Lord's. Snape found, with some distaste and not a little dread, that he could even sense what the Dark Lord was feeling. He suspected it was different with Daniel; somewhere, miles away in the dungeons of Hogwarts, Severus's ears told him that Daniel was shrieking in pain.

The Dark Lord had just intitiated Daniel's brother. That had been a shock. Severus had quickly realised the boy wasn't on the best of terms with his father when, instead of becoming enraged when Severus had slandered James, he had simply nodded in agreement. He had known the boy was a better student than his brother and a Slytherin, but he hadn't known he practised the Dark Arts or was going to join the Dark Lord's supporters. Has joined, Severus corrected himself.

The boy he'd taken as the Potter Family Disappointment had become a Death Eater and expressed an intention to kill his father, seemingly with complete sincerity. The Dark Lord had believed him.

In all, it was worrying. He hadn't known a thing about it, despite being Potter's Head of House. Snape wondered if he was losing his touch

He quickly drew his attention back to the Death Eater meeting, however. The Dark Lord was angry. He did something with his wand, and waited.

A Death Eater stumbled forward out of thin air.

'Black!' snapped the Dark Lord, not even giving the wizard a chance to gain his balance. 'Is it true, what I have heard?'

'And what is it that you were told, my lord?' said Regulus Black. He didn't sound nervous, but then he never did. Snape didn't really like Black, though he had been friends (more like allies) with him once. Black was arrogant, ardent, and, what was yet more unforgivable, he was an extremely talented wizard. He was so skilled in duelling and Occlumency that even Severus had to admire him.

'You failed to carry out the task I assigned you.'

Black looked down in shame.

'There is nothing I can say to excuse my failure, my lord.'

Black was demonstrating his trademark style; Severus preferred to be subtle, understated. Black was invariably blunt, and so disingenuously credible that it was impossible to pick when he was lying, and when he was not. Rather like Harry Potter, Severus thought uneasily.

'I am not pleased, Black.' The Dark Lord made a decisive motion with his wand and said, '_Crucio_.'

Black gave himself up to pain, and his screams seemed to fill the air.

It went on so long that the newer Death Eaters began to shift slightly on their feet. Potter, however, was smiling lightly. Severus wondered whether it could be an act, and didn't think it likely.

Voldemort finally relented, and Black got slowly to his feet.

'Now that you have been adequately punished, I want your explanation for your actions, pitiful as it must surely be.'

'I captured Cleo Antony like you ordered. In the process I also managed to injure an Auror, his name was Croshaw I believe.'

'She was guarded,' said Voldemort.

'As my lord predicted. There were in fact five Auror guards. When I finally managed to escape with the prisoner I was badly injured. I was unable to interrogate her, and I had to fetch a Healing potion. She escaped whilst I was occupied.'

The Dark Lord nodded, with an expression that might have been benevolent in another man. Despite Black's simple, casual account of the night, he had clearly done well considering he'd had to face five Aurors. Black was allowed to go without further punishment. Then the Dark Lord's features stiffened into a spasm of suppressed rage.

'There is a traitor among you. Too many times in the past months have our plans been thwarted. Antony should not have had such a large guard. They must have known an attack was planned. Someone told them.'

He looked around the ring of robed figures with deathly slowness.

'They who betray me never live long,' he warned.

Severus felt a pang of terror, but quickly stifled it. He'd survived this long, and dealt with worse than this. If the Dark Lord showed signs of distrust around him, he'd become the model Death Eater again, and the Order would have to live without inside information for a time.

Voldemort spoke to a few Death Eaters individually, then vanished in a swirl of robes, leaving the Death Eaters to themselves. With a fuzzy spinning, Severus was flung back into his own mind.

He turned his attention immediately to Daniel, who was getting up from the floor. How much had he seen? How much did he remember? All? A little? Nothing?

Severus looked Daniel once in the eyes and knew everything. The boy, never very good at Occlumency, was exuding hate and pain with all the intensity of the sun.

'I'll kill him!' Daniel exclaimed. He swore vehemently, turned, and ran from the room.

Severus, sensing disaster ahead, ordered him to wait.

Daniel completely ignored him.

'Stop. No? Fine. _Impedimenta_ and ten points from Gryffindor for disobeying a teacher.'

Snape caught up to him, then without the slightest pang of regret levelled his wand at the boy.

'_Obliviate_.'

Daniel, the Impedimenta's effects wearing off, hurried forward. His eyes had gone blank, however, and it quickly became apparent he did not where he was or what he was doing.

'What – where am I? I want to go – I, er, was going to Si -.'

'To the Gryffindor Common Room, as you should at this time of night,' Severus interjected firmly.

Daniel, whatever his deficiencies in Occlumency, had an unfortunately strong-willed mind, and did not take well to the memory charm. Severus gave him his blackest glare, hoping Potter would be deterred from questioning him. It worked.

The boy, piteously confused, changed direction and headed for his dorms.

Severus watched him go with satisfaction. He couldn't let Potter go away with that knowledge. Though Severus didn't believe him capable of murder, he certainly expected the boy would have tried something nasty on Harry, and who knew how _he_ would react? The idea of the Potters killing each other was certainly a very attractive one, but much too impractical. People would start wondering how Daniel had found out in the first place.

Snape left to see Dumbledore. He had, quite naturally, a lot of news.

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Harry is not going to be incredibly evil in this fic. urgh. i hope not, anyway. At the moment he is misguided and adhering to an "ends-justify-means" philosophy.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Not a very exciting chapter and a bit too wordy imo, just character stuff (Harry's motivations and his big 'plan') and Snape isn't in it, which is a pity, but the next chapter's better. 

Thankyou very much everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate it.

**Evergreen Sceptre **(thanks for being interested! I'll reply here cause it was a general question), the forged signatures were (naturally) so that Harry could borrow books from the Restricted Section with impunity. You'll find out why Harry's doing what he's doing in this chapter and the next (Dumbledore identifies his motives pretty easily). The cobra from Daniel's birthday was taken and tested for about six months by the Ministry without them managing to find out who it came from. I don't suppose I'll go into this in the story, but it was Malfoy, who was aiming to test the boy-who-defeated-voldemort and may or may not be a potential Dark Lord in his own right. Instead it ended with him being interested in Harry rather than Daniel, and this is one of the reasons (Malfoy's talking-up Harry) that he, a Potter, was actually allowed to join Voldemort's circle, the other being that he is a Slytherin. And Harry has had no contact with snakes; James won't let him, because he desperately wants everyone to forget that his son is a Parselmouth. Harry's subjects are the same as real Harry's, plus Arithmancy.

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Chapter Five 

Harry's reasons for becoming a Death Eater were much the same as his reasons for studying the Dark Arts. It was completely against what his father and godfather stood for, it was dangerous (he was not above the thrill of risk-taking), it allowed him to go with the flow and hedge his bets – after all, who knew w ho would win in the end? - , and, most attractively, it brought with it the heady delight of power.

Yet when he got back to his dormitory and took a shower, the sight of the mark on his arm was somehow wrong, disgusting, and he spent ten minutes trying to scrub it away before he realised it was fading of its own accord. Eventually it disappeared altogether, but Harry knew it was still there, under the skin, waiting to burn out hot when the Dark Lord wanted him.

The fall-out over the whole incident did not take long to arrive. A third-year witch hailed him in the hall the next morning. 'Harry Potter?' she asked, checking whether she had the right person.

'That's right.'

'You're wanted in the Headmaster's Office.'

Harry's stomach turned. He ignored it and gulped down the rest of his tea. He'd had a late night, he needed to wake up if he wanted to be able to navigate himself out of the situation. Draco, a little way up the table, gave him a concerned look.

'The Headmaster wants you?' he said. As of this morning, he'd been unusually friendly to Harry. Harry wasn't surprised – he'd cast his lot in with Harry's. If Harry was found out as freshly-marked Death Eater, then Draco's world could quite likely come crashing down too.

'Yes he does. Don't worry, I'm not in trouble,' Harry said meaningfully. 'I'm pretty sure he wants to see me to see if I want to send a message to my father. He'd warned me about it last week.'

Draco accepted this explanation pathetically easily, saying goodbye to Harry as he got up and left the room. He walked to the Headmaster's Office slowly. He knew, really, that the meeting was nothing of the sort. Somehow, they'd found out. He knew they would, but this was much, much sooner than he'd imagined.

The gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office sprang outside without him having to say the password, and the spiralling stairs were a little more energetic today than usual.

When he reached the top he stood two seconds in front of the closed door, willing all his apprehension and fear into a little ball, then snuffing it out altogether. He'd planned for this, he'd foreseen it. He'd known what would happen.

It would all go like clockwork. He knocked on the door. 'Come in,' a voice called. Harry swung the door open, and stepped inside.

A very large spanner flung itself squarely into his planning. The man before him was not Sirius. In fact, he was much older and much more dangerous, thought Harry, noting the steely glint in the wizard's eyes. It was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, old Albus Dumbledore, who the Dark Lord himself was supposed to fear. Harry felt cowed and suddenly very small, but not because of the man's position on the Wizengamot or his Order of Merlin.

Harry's stomach felt queasy, and he wished he hadn't drunk that tea. He'd been expecting Sirius, predictable Sirius, not Dumbledore. This was going to be disastrous.

'Take a seat Harry,' the man said.

Harry sunk into one of the chairs.

'I'm afraid Sirius isn't in much of a state to see you. I feared he'd do something rash, so I came instead.'

Harry took a deep breath. What could he do? Deny it, and be disbelieved, or agree to the man's face that yes he was a Death Eater, and he didn't feel hugely guilty about it either. No, there was only one possibility: break down and confess, and hope Dumbledore bought it.

So, throwing caution to the winds, he mustered what feelings of regret he had and burst into tears.

'I'm sorry. I realised it was a mistake as soon as it – as soon as he Marked me. I shouldn't have gone. I was – I was.' He inhaled with a rattling sound. 'I was stupid. I – I'm sorry sir. I was so angry at them, I wanted to show them they were wrong… but I just proved them right.'

He pulled back his sleeve and exposed bare skin.

'Scourgify!' There was no visible effect.

'Do you suppose a Cutting Spell would get rid of it?' Harry wondered. He was about to flick his wand in the characteristic pattern, when Dumbledore disarmed him.

'Harry, there's nothing you can do. You'll have it for life – either your's or Voldemort's.'

'But I don't want to be a Death Eater any more. I don't!'

'There's nothing you can do, Harry.' Dumbledore gave him an apologetic look. 'You either stay, or you reject him, in which case, even here at Hogwarts you will have trouble escaping reprisal.'

'So I have to stay?' Harry didn't really know if Dumbledore would trust him

The old man's blue eyes met his, and Harry felt Dumbledore boring into his mind, trying to sense his thoughts. Harry blocked him, and Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and sighed.

He didn't trust Harry then. He was too smart. Even if Harry delivered his 'remorseful confession' with perfectly genuine-sounding regret and self-hatred, Dumbledore was bound to question it. After all, why would Harry turn around so quickly, so abruptly? Why would he suddenly despise being a Death Eater when he'd chosen to be one only _last night_?

Harry's sigh echoed Dumbledore's, as he changed tack. He'd tell Dumbledore the truth, or part of it. That was more likely to convince him, though Harry would find it rather personal and embarrassing.

He cleared his throat, and made an effort to look Dumbledore in the eye.

'I suppose I haven't been completely honest. You must know it wasn't a completely rash decision of mine to join his Circle – you are given time to decide. Though it is true that I do regret it a little. I probably did not think the unpleasant side over enough.'

Here Dumbledore's face darkened like a cloud had passed over it. Harry's euphemisms obviously irked him. Harry, nervous, quickly ploughed on.

'But I did have a reason, a very important one. I want to bring about the Dark Lord's downfall, and I think I can obtain this result best by working from within.'

He gave Dumbledore a resolved, almost defiant look, then relaxed his features.

But Dumbledore was not smiling, nor was he encouraging Harry in this admirable goal.

'Why, Harry?'

'Why do I want to kill him? Well, it's obvious. He's evil. He- he killed my mum. If she was still alive it – things would be different.' Harry flushed, a little embarrassed. He had often wondered whether James would not have been warmer towards him if his mother was still around. 'Besides, it would be helping the wizarding community. How many wizards, Muggles too, might be killed while he still lives? Whoever kills him is doing us a great service.'

'Is that really why you want to do this? Or is it just what you tell yourself?'

'What do you mean?' Harry said, trying to keep his anger out of his voice. What nonsense was Dumbledore trying to infer?

But Dumbledore didn't infer it. The next time he spoke, he cut sharply to the point.

'Harry, are you sure it isn't because you want to replace him? Because you want his power?'

'N-no!' Harry stuttered.

He got to his feet hastily, his chair scraping as he pushed it back.

'I don't want anything of the kind, and you know it. I would never enjoy the things – the things he does.'

Harry forced himself to calm down, he was being ridiculous, but this calm was again shattered as Dumbledore said, 'But there are other rewards to power, rewards that might be more enticing to you -.'

'They would not!'

'…Such as escape from death.'

'I'm not afraid of dying,' Harry snapped.

'No, you're not,' Dumbledore allowed. 'But there are other things which you yearn for, don't you Harry?'

'Like what?'

'Appreciation, fame, admiration. It's understandable, with a brother like yours, naturally everyone is preoccupied with him. You've always played second fiddle, been left out, ostracised. You're jealous of the respect your brother receives.'

Harry wished he could be somewhere else, because the horrible thing, the really horrible thing, was that Dumbledore was quite correct. There was no way Harry could deny it, even to himself. Nonetheless, rather than feeling regret, he became angry that Dumbledore didn't trust him, and afraid that the wizard seemed to understand more than he did about himself.

'But Harry, killing the Dark Lord would bring only a shallow appreciation. The only thing that would gain love – your family's, your peers' love – _is_ love. What would happen if you found out that people feared you more than admired you after such a feat? What if they avoided you, were suspicious of you? Who knows but that you might punish them for this? You'd have the power to be able to do so.'

Harry forced himself to relax, forced the scowl off his face, and made himself respond, 'I'm sorry, sir, but your logic is faulty. There are too many 'ifs'. If I do that, if they do this, if that happens. If the heavens rained gold, I might become a millionaire and move to Barbados. I don't see how this fantasy is relevant to the matter at hand.'

Dumbledore regarded him for a long time, and his piercing gaze seemed to cut through Harry's logic and false composure.

'I was only trying to get you to see the truth, Harry, though you do not seem to want to believe it. This is what can and may happen. Though clearly it is a long way away yet, you have taken your first step on a path that can only lead to evil, no matter which turnings you take. Please listen to me and turn back.'

Harry shrugged as casually as possible.

'I will give you any information I can without compromising myself. But I will not abandon my plan.'

Dumbledore looked at him with sorrow in his eyes, but did not argue.

As the somewhat sullen boy left the office, Dumbledore straightened from his chair. He had to leave for a meeting with James Potter. But he spared one last look towards the door Harry had disappeared behind.

'This one will take the hard path to wisdom,' he said under his breath. Then sadness suffused his features. 'If he ever learns at all.'

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Daniel began his morning Transfiguration class with zeal. He had a small headache, but nothing he couldn't live with – at least it wasn't the result of another vision of Voldemort. The class was trying to change whisky into wine and Daniel and Ron, who had already completed the task, sat back to chat. McGonagall was occupied with Dean Thomas, who had accidentally set his whisky alight with his wand, and so was not likely to tell them off.

'So you said you asked someone to the dance?' Ron said.

'That's right.' Daniel folded his arms, almost smug. The lead-up to the Halloween Ball had been an unexpected success for him. He'd been asked by no less than fifteen different girls. But to Ron's amazement he had not accepted any of the offers, saying he didn't know any of the girls well enough. Who cares what their personalities are like, Ron had replied, it was only one night, Daniel should have chosen a good-looking one, Jasmine for example.

Daniel tore himself from his thoughts to hear Ron say, 'Go on then.'

'Go on what?'

'Tell me.' Ron's curiosity was struggling with his desire to look uninterested in the Ball and everything involved with it (he still hadn't got a partner).

'Oh, it wouldn't be fun. You wouldn't care anyway.'

'Try me.'

'Hey Hermione,' Daniel called out. Hermione, sitting in the desk in front of them, turned around to look at them. 'Ron, meet my partner for the Halloween Ball.'

Ron gaped and Hermione gave him a small, steely smile, not quite meeting his eyes. Daniel laughed at Ron's response, oblivious to the unseen tension that hovered between his friends.

'Are you all right, Ron? You didn't drink any of that whisky?' Daniel asked a moment later, surprised to find that Ron was looking a little green.

'No, I'm fine mate. I think – I think I'll just go to the bathroom.'


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Six 

Harry hadn't decided whether he would go to the Halloween Ball or not. Still, he was a little put out when Draco came and informed him that morning, over a glass of chilled pumpkin juice, that he could not go.

'If you say so, Malfoy.'

'No, I mean you literally cannot, must not go. The Dark Lord will call you.'

'What?' spluttered Harry, sitting up straight in his chair, and lowering his voice to match Draco's.

'It's to initiate you, break you in as a – as one of his supporters. There will be a raid on a Muggle village, I don't know where, and you will be expected to go along and participate. As an initiation rite.'

'And have you had one of these _initiation rites_?'

'It wasn't possible. For my duties here, I can't risk being exposed outside of the school at all. I have a mission to complete.'

Harry rolled his eyes.

'The Dark Mark contains a Portofilius, I presume?' he inquired.

'A what?'

Harry sighed.

'Something that will let me know where to Apparate.'

'Yes it does.'

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That evening Harry ate his Halloween dinner calmly and exited the Great Hall at nine o'clock, when the tables were being cleared and most students were in their dormitories preparing for the Ball. He lingered in the Entrance Hall half an hour and was relieved when his Mark began to burn. It wasn't as hot as when he had first got it, more of a strong, insistent stinging which increased by the minute.

Feeling nervous and strangely excited, Harry left the castle and Disapparated from the Forbidden Forest.

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Ron was behaving weirdly. Daniel had made a light offhand remark about seeing him and Luna Lovegood (his date) dancing together, and Ron had gone off in a huff. He still refused to speak to Daniel, who had progressed from total bafflement to being rather offended at Ron's behaviour.

'I don't understand what his problem is,' he told Hermione. 'I say one thing and he explodes in my face. It's bizarre.'

'Yes it is,' said Hermione, but for some reason she didn't seem as mystified as Daniel was. In fact, she looked a little pleased.

Daniel agreed to her suggestion of leaving Ron alone to cool off. After they danced for a while, with each other and others, they went to find some drinks. Some seventh years had smuggled in mead and Butterbeer, and Daniel and Ginny were arguing with Hermione over whether this infringement should go to the Professors or not.

Unfortunately at that moment Professor McGonagall appeared.

'What are you doing?'

Hermione had the good grace to keep her mouth shut, and Daniel explained that they were just having a drink.

'Oh really? Potter, hand me that glass.'

Daniel frowned stupidly at his glass a second, then said, 'What, this one?'

'Yes Mr Potter.'

McGonagall took the glass and peered into it.

'Pumpkin juice?'

'It's healthy and refreshing,' Ginny said.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

'I'm sure it is. Mr Potter, I am very impressed by your Transfiguration abilities, but I wish you would not use them in this way. Ginevra, hand me that cup. And don't tell me it's pumpkin juice too.'

But Ginny had been furiously gulping down her drink.

'There's none left Professor.'

McGonagall scowled at her, and was poising herself for a tirade when Slughorn insinuated himself into the group.

'Hello Minerva. Lovely night isn't it? I see you are having fun there, Daniel. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get myself a Butterbeer, or perhaps something a little stronger?' He winked congenially, eyeing Daniel's cup.

'Horace!' exclaimed McGonagall. 'Encouraging students to drink!'

She continued to rant until Slughorn had reluctantly promised her that he would be sensible. Then, as soon as she left, Slughorn informed Daniel and the other nearby students that they _would_ be sensible, and asked Daniel to fetch a good bottle of wine.

Daniel wandered over to where the drinks were and someone thrust a few bottles into his hand. A minute later and he was pouring out wine for Professor Slughorn and the others, and then mead for himself. Slughorn toasted the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Daniel feigned embarrassment but glowed with pleasure inside, like a stroked cat. He took a sip.

'Professor,' he began, then suddenly needles were stabbing up and down his back. Or it felt like it. A cold numbness came over him so that his limbs went stiff. He found he couldn't move. Then he was falling face-first onto the ground.

In the background someone screamed 'Poison' and he knew no more.

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'_Avada Kedavra_.'

The Muggle man, probably a pensioner, fell over in his front lawn, crushing some of his own roses.

Harry watched, his face dispassionate, whilst his mind roiled with horror and disgust.

'We're not meant to kill them,' he said. 'The Dark Lord instructed to leave them alive so that the Ministry of Magic will be swamped trying to cover this up and the Muggles may find out -.'

'It's just one, and the fool tried to attack me.'

The Death Eater stopped speaking and moved on to the Muggle's wife, hitting her with a Tarantallegra, and laughing as her attempts to escape ended in a frantic tap dance.

Harry turned away. He didn't want to watch this. But everywhere he looked there were Death Eaters. They were smashing up buildings and cars, destroying well-tended flowerbeds and swing sets. One was setting the town's houses on fire, another was torturing a Muggle teenager with the Cruciatus. In fact, all over there were Muggles screaming with humiliation and pain as the dark-cowled wizards easily thwarted their attempts at resistance and – Harry sought the word – _played_ with them, like cats did with mice.

Harry tried to blink away this image and felt someone, a moment later, put a hand on his shoulder. He whirled round to find himself facing (judging by height) the same Death Eater who had killed the old Muggle.

'What?' Harry demanded, lowering his wand.

'You're new aren't you?'

Harry inclined his head.

'Aren't you going to _do_ anything? You're just standing there. Having second thoughts about it?'

Harry snarled that he wasn't, and promptly blasted the dead pensioner's garage till it was crumbled ruin.

But the Death Eater wasn't satisfied.

'Why not a Muggle?' he said, voice dripping with mistrust. 'Or are you too weak for it?'

'Fine.' Harry sent off half a dozen curses at Muggle who was looking through a window in the house opposite. He hoped desperately that the glass would block them. It didn't, and he couldn't quite keep his abhorrence for his action off his masked face, though his voice stayed cool when he said, 'I don't enjoy doing this. When it's this easy, where's the challenge? I would prefer killing Mudbloods, who can actually fight back.'

'You'll regret saying that in good time. You'll wish you were back fighting Muggles.'

Harry shrugged, and walked away. At least the Death Eater didn't distrust him any more. But he didn't want to be forced to torture a Muggle again. He had to get out, go somewhere out of the way, where he could wait out the night without doing anything.

This was awful. Harry had known what to expect, when he'd joined. He just hadn't anticipated his _own_ reaction to it. He'd thought it would be nothing, just a few curses, a bit of Dark magic. He'd be able to cope. But these were _people_. Muggles were ordinary people, and they were being treated as less than human, less than animal even. Harry's grandparents had been Muggles.

He'd known objectively that the Death Eater's did evil things, but to experience such a terrible confirmation of it, and know that he was one of them now was a different thing altogether. What would he be forced to do to avoid the Dark Lord's displeasure? To ingratiate himself with him, as he'd intended to do? Harry hadn't wanted to consider it, but now a small voice, deep beneath his Occlumency walls, was saying insistently that he'd made a mistake.

He'd deal with it. He'd make plans.

For now, Harry decided to enter a small terraced house at the end of the street. He carelessly waved his wand, blasting the door open. Hopefully no one would follow him, and he could wait inside. The Muggles – what was it, eleven o'clock at night? – were most likely awake, considering the time and the noise, but he'd leave them alone.

He stepped inside, hurried down the hallway, and took the first door on the left.

He found himself in a sitting room. To his surprise, he saw a Muggle family seated on a lounge, their eyes wide and afraid. Standing a few paces away from them was a Death Eater, his black robes blending in with the darkness of the room.

'What are you doing?' Harry said, hoping he wouldn't be asked the same question. With despair, he realised that his plans had come to nothing. It looked like he'd end up torturing people after all.

The Death Eater hesitated a moment then spoke.

'Enjoying myself,' he said lightly. The voice was distinguishable as that of Regulus Black.

Harry examined him closely, remaining silent. Something wasn't right. Harry didn't know what – having fun hurting Muggles wasn't exactly out of place tonight.

He sought Black's eyes even as the man met his. But as Harry tentatively tried Legillimency he realised Black was trying to use it against him. _Why?_

He firmly blocked his mind. This behaviour on the part of Black was strange.

Harry continued to ponder it. 'Don't let me stop you,' he told him.

Black nodded. '_Crucio_,' he said forcefully, and a weak jet of red light hit the Muggle father, who writhed noiselessly. Harry realised that the family must be under a silencing spell. Again, why? Why had Black come in here so secretive, why didn't he want a soul to hear? Harry thought the Death Eaters enjoyed their victims' screams.

Black broke the spell, and the poor man slumped back on the lounge. Harry inadvertently scrutinised the Death Eater who had cursed him, met his brown eyes, and froze with shock.

Regulus Black was skilfully Occluded, as good an actor as any other Slytherin, but it didn't deceive Harry. Harry recognised Black's reluctance, his self-disgust, and his remorse where no one else had, because he happened to be feeling precisely the same way himself.

Black, too, was having second thoughts about being a Death Eater. Black, too, had retreated to this house to avoid doing unspeakable things. It explained his actions. He had silenced the Muggles so they didn't give him away, he had tried to see Harry's thoughts in case he Harry suspected him of his disloyalty, he – he'd let Croshaw escape the other day, perhaps for the same reasons.

Harry felt a thrill. He was not the only one. It took him a second to decide – what if he was imagining this? What if Regulus Black _was_ a loyal Death Eater?

No, he'd take the gamble.

Harry interrupted Black, who was methodically cursing the family of Muggles.

'Let me.'

Black stiffly complied, and Harry released the Muggles from the silencing spell and knocked them unconscious.

The Death Eater watched him carefully. Harry'd have to be careful. Black was a powerful wizard. He was not, however, a fool, if he'd managed to keep his infidelity from the Dark Lord this long.

'I don't think you're enjoying yourself, Black.'

'Why do you say that, _Potter_?'

Harry could tell the man was on the brink of cursing him. He had to do this right.

'Good. You know who I am. I also do not enjoy this.' Black did not relax his wand hand, and Harry pressed on. 'That is why I _hate_ him.'

Regulus did not betray surprise, he did not move at all.

'You may think he is testing your loyalty, or something complicated like that, by getting me to say this. That is not true. Think how unlikely it would be for him to select someone as inexperienced as me to test you.'

'No one can predict the Dark Lord.'

'If you don't believe me, look into my mind,' Harry said, trying to tell himself he was taking a calculated risk when he was actually being reckless.

Black did not wait. He met Harry's eyes and suddenly Harry felt an unknown presence rifling through his thoughts and memories. After a brief space of time Black released him, and Harry was aware of the man staring at him with shock.

'Now do you believe me? You should, considering I have staked everything and you nothing.'

'Visit me next Friday evening. My house is at 12 Grimmauld Place. I will show you something very important there.'

There was a sharp rise in volume in the shouts outside.

'The Aurors are here! Dumbledore too. Get out!'

Both Regulus and Harry heard the voice distinctly. Black gave Harry a brief nod and Apparated, and Harry followed suit.

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Ok. I hope I made it obvious that Daniel transfigured his cup of Hogwarts-prohibited alcohol into pumpkin juice (wordlessly) before he passed it to McGonagall. He takes after his father and is pretty good at Transfiguration.

I'll also say (because it's impossible for me to know whether it was clear or not from the story) that harry knocked the muggles unconscious to put them out of their misery and make sure they didn't overhear what he was going to say to Regulus. Though I suppose he could have used that nifty anti-eavesdropping spell of Snape's.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thankyou for reviewing! I appreciate it a lot. I've just discovered two plot inconsistencies. I've decided that Slughorn has been teaching at the school since last year, yet I put the new arrival Snape as Head of House for Slytherin. Ah well. There are probably some other dodgy things, but I haven't noticed them. 

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Chapter Seven 

Daniel Potter writhed on the ground a few seconds, his head jerking furiously and foam coming from his mouth.

'M-my dear boy!' Slughorn gasped.

Ron tried to hold his friend, but Daniel was lashing about so furiously that he couldn't keep a grip.

'Professor!' shrieked Hermione. 'You don't know a spell against poison? Please, Professor!'

At that moment, Professor Snape seemed to appear from nowhere. Looking particularly ill-humoured, he knelt down and, almost half-heartedly, shoved a stone into Daniel's mouth. The boy gulped and instantly relaxed.

Snape tentatively felt for a pulse, then straightened up.

'Is he all right sir?'

'What did you do?'

'Severus, what was it?'

Snape waited for the chorus of voices to subside, then said, 'Mr Potter has been poisoned.' He ignored the (almost redundant – everyone had guessed what had happened already) gasps, and continued, 'He should be back to his usual cavalier self in a matter of days.'

Slughorn offered to take him to the Hospital Wing, and exchanged a brief word with Snape.

'A bezoar was it, Severus? You were always remarkably quick-thinking in this sort of situation. You don't h-?'

'I must go and enlighten the Headmaster,' said Snape smoothly. If anything, he looked a little put out at having to save Daniel Potter.

'Severus,' said Slughorn, 'Was it serious?'

As one Slytherin to another, Snape paused and decided to reply. 'He was very lucky. If I had been brewing the poison, he would have died instantly.'

Slughorn let him go and turned to the unconscious Daniel. His two friends were still stricken – Miss Granger was crying on that redhead boy's shoulder, and he was attempting to comfort her.

He levitated Daniel and headed up to the Hospital Wing.

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Harry was awoken, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, by a rat-faced first year. Wondering why the boy had dared enter the sixth year dormitory, he put his glasses on and sat up in bed.

'What is it?'

'Professor Snape wants you. He's in the Common Room. It's very urgent.'

'Oh,' said Harry. From the look on the first year's face, he already knew what this was about. Harry was curious, but didn't inquire. Instead he hurried to dress and went out to the sparsely occupied Common Room. What could Snape possibly want on a Saturday morning?

'Sir,' he said.

Snape acknowledged this greeting and began, his face inscrutable, 'As your Head of House, it is my duty to tell you that your brother was poisoned last night.'

Snape paused, waiting for him to react.

Harry was mute. His brother had been poisoned? Was he _dead_? Harry felt a miserable sort of shame come over him. How could he run about with the Death Eaters, with Lord Voldemort, following his own interests like he had been doing? His brother had probably been poisoned the same time Harry was out torturing Muggles. He'd betrayed his twin brother, however indirectly, and look what had happened.

He finally spoke, pulling his gaze from the ground to meet Snape's eyes.

'What kind of poison was it?'

'I have ascertained that it was nightshade-based. Probably the Amerosa variant.'

That potion usually killed within seconds. Harry didn't have much hope, but he asked anyway, 'Did he survive?'

'Yes.'

Harry felt an obscure happiness take over him. He didn't know why he cared, he didn't even _know_ Daniel very well. But they were brothers, and Daniel after all had saved his –

Harry blinked hard. He had a tight feeling about his forehead. Those black eyes… Snape was trying to see his thoughts, he realised belatedly. What on earth was the man playing at?

'I presume he is in the Hospital Wing?' Harry said, wanting to leave at once.

He didn't bother to wait for a reply. He was too angry to do so. While he was pretty sure Snape hadn't succeeded, even taking him off guard, he was concerned as to why he would have done it in the first place.

Snape was a Death Eater. Snape had tried to gauge his reaction at the news of his brother's poisoning. Snape suspected him, then. He suspected him of being disloyal to the Dark Lord. He must have been watching for Harry's response to the news.

Feeling like he was caught between a rock and a hard place, Harry took the long walk up from the Dungeons. Dumbledore didn't fully trust him, Snape (and by extension Voldemort?) didn't fully trust him. Both of them, unfortunately, had reason.

He slowed, realising he had almost gone right past the Infirmary. The door creaked open. It was easy to tell where Daniel was; it was the only occupied bed in the room. And there was someone sitting beside it. James Potter. The Head Auror glanced up at the sound of the door opening, and caught sight of Harry.

Evidently, Harry's father had been crying. His eyes were still a little bloodshot. He opened his mouth and, from there, it didn't go very well.

'Why are you here?'

'I was worried. How is he?'

James shot an anguished glance at Daniel, who was still out cold, then turned back to Harry.

'I don't know why you would care. You're probably the one who poisoned him.'

'I was _not_. If you must know, I wasn't even at the Ball. And, and – how _dare _you say that.'

'I dare easily. I'm not some low spineless Slytherin who runs around killing defenceless Muggles while his brother's being murdered. Where were you last night, incidentally, if you weren't at the Ball? Tell me that, Harry.'

Harry's face was very pale, drained of its usual colour, just as James' was very red.

'You must know what I'm doing, being as close to Dumbledore as you are,' Harry hissed. 'I was spying.'

'You were betraying your own family and cementing your place with You-know-who, more like. There's no bravery in spying anyway, if that's what you call it. No matter which side you end up supporting, you're still betraying the other, you're still a traitor.'

'You didn't have any problem spying on me this summer.'

'I always had your best interests at heart. I did it only because I was worried about what you might turn into. A dark wizard. And look what happened.'

'Honestly, why do you think I'm doing what I'm doing?' Harry glared at his father, frustrated and angry. 'I hate him too. I hate the things he does. I'm on your side. I'm on Daniel's side. I want him dead, and I'm going about it the best way I know how.'

But James didn't believe him. He didn't even look as if he'd listened.

'I tried so hard with you, Harry. I went to such lengths. I suppose you can't help it, you were born like that. But I did try. Your brother defeated You-know-who. I expected you'd have at least some aversion to the dark arts, to Slytherin, to evil and lies. And yet you turned to them as soon as you had the chance. You spat in the face of your brother, your father, your – your mother, Harry, and all she represented.'

Harry was blinded by rage. He could barely find the door as he turned his back on James. He knew somewhere in his mind that the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were all bastards. He knew that it was no wonder his father thought ill of him, considering what he'd willingly done, what he'd willingly joined.

But this was drowned in fury. James had never given him a chance. He'd treated Harry as a Dark wizard from the very beginning, he'd tossed out his judgements on him without a second thought. He'd never bothered to find out what Harry actually thought, what he actually cared about.

And now he'd brought up Harry's mother, and said he was dishonouring, _desecrating_ her memory by his actions.

'I'm going, I've had enough,' he muttered. Then, because he knew it would cause his father at least a little pain, and that was what he wanted, he said, 'I hate you. My life would have been better if you were dead.'

James didn't take this well. He got up and surged after Harry, catching his shoulder outside, and slamming him against the corridor wall.

'Give it up. Admit you were wrong.'

Harry noticed with regret that time had crept by. The morning was maturing, and the corridor was far from empty. Passers-by stopped and stared.

'I won't,' Harry insisted, trying to wrench himself away from his father.

'You don't feel compunction at all, do you? You _are_ evil.'

Harry didn't reply.

'Even though it was arranged, how could you do it? How could you become… We let you alone, I let you alone because they insisted. Despite your dark proclivities…We let you off, because it had to be _your_ decision. I told you off a thousand times, but you could do what you want. And what did you do, how did you respond to my forbearance? You promptly went to _him_. I know Dumbledore says it's useful but you're clearly a hazard, you have no re -.'

Harry pushed away from him, not wanting to hear more. It was lucky James still had the sense to keep his voice down, and that no one except Harry had heard.

Harry was shaking with the implications. James had just implied that they – whoever _they_ were, Dumbledore seemed to be among them – had knowingly let him join the Death Eaters. They'd let him make that huge dangerous _mistake_ without trying once to stop him. Harry didn't care about that 'him-making-his-own-free-decision' crap. They'd nonetheless let him do it, let him make the mistake that still occasionally burned on his arm, the mistake he was already coming to hate.

James was saying something to him again, he couldn't really hear what it was.

'So it was all _arranged_, you said. You're quite happy to throw me on the pyre if I'll be _useful_,' Harry echoed James' words.

'It wasn't like that.'

Harry drew his wand, pointed it at the man.

James glared angrily back. 'Curse me, go on, curse an unarmed man.'

Harry's hand twitched, sorely tempted. Then James suddenly lost it.

'That's it, I've had enough. I disown you! I DISOWN YOU! You're not my son.'

'Good,' Harry said contemptuously, 'You were never my father.'

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'You're keeping a low profile,' said Draco as Harry walked into the Common Room that evening. He subtly cast an Anti-eavesdropping spell, and waited for Harry's response.

'I presume you mean my argument with my father.'

'Apparently,' said Draco, examining Harry closely, 'it was quite a scene.'

As Draco had expected him to, Harry sat down next to him, folded his hands, and elaborated. Harry always went into detail when asked (directly or otherwise), and Draco was quickly coming to trust him because of it.

'I had to tell them,' Harry said calmly.

Draco paled.

'They would have found out sooner or later, you must admit. I convinced them,' (here Harry smirked coldly), 'that I regretted my actions immensely. Sirius and the others were persuaded and now I am officially a double agent. It wasn't particularly hard. As I'm a Potter, they are predisposed towards me.'

What a lie, the incident with James showed that more than anything.

'And now they think I am some sort of double agent. That among other things was why my father was so upset. He's not happy I'm a Death Eater, spy or no. They still do not totally trust me, but it is enough. I may follow the Dark Lord without being troubled by them.'

Draco nodded with relief, though he didn't manage to wholly suppress the anxiety that had beset him as soon as he'd found out that _they_ knew about Harry. He was impressed too, and surprised. He couldn't imagine what Harry must have said or done to convince them.

He cleared his throat. 'You'll be fine. You lie well enough.' Not that Harry was very perceptive when being lied _to_. He still hadn't come close to realising it was Draco behind the attempts on his brother's life. Draco smirked. 'I guess you're like Snape then.'

'What?'

'You know Snape's a Death Eater, right?'

'Yeah,' said Harry.

'Pretty obvious.' Even Harry got it. Feeling full of himself, Draco went on, 'Well, for some reason they just trust him, even though he's clearly a Death Eater. A bit like you. Wish it was like that for the rest of us.'

Draco then detailed how he thought Snape was a double double agent, or something like that, and harry lost track of the logic. He was thinking of something different. Snape lied well. He must lie well, he knew Legillimency, and no doubt Occlumency. Harry had always assumed the man was a Death Eater, but now a new possibility occurred to him. Which side was Snape really on?

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The question everyone's asking… at least, I am. And JKR said at an interview that she agreed that 'everything hinges on it', or something like that. I subscribe to the snape-is-good camp for various reasons, one of which is pure wishful thinking.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight 

Surprisingly, the last person in Hogwarts to find out about the incident between Harry and James Potter was Daniel Potter himself. He was discharged from the hospital wing almost a week after his poisoning and his friends and father had not felt it a good idea to discuss it with him.

So on Friday morning, relishing his freedom from the overbearing Madam Pomfrey, Daniel wolfed down his breakfast bacon with relative tranquillity. He had been poisoned, but he'd survived, and the only thing really bothering him was his constantly-tweaking scar.

People kept giving him odd looks, but that was understandable. When Daniel noticed Ron staring at the Slytherin table, not at Malfoy but his twin brother, and then saw quite a few other people doing the same thing, he grew apprehensive.

'Ron, why are you watching Harry?'

'What?' Ron gave a start, and tried to stop Daniel inquiring further by gulping down half his porridge.

'Ron, _tell me_.'

'You know your brother loves curses and the, um, Dark Arts? Well everyone thinks that he's a Death Eater.'

Daniel gave him a stupefied look and Hermione, catching the tail end of the conversation, cut in.

'Ron, you're about as tactful as a slap in the face. Honestly, I'll tell Daniel what happened.'

Hermione quickly explained what had happened outside the Hospital Wing. 'Everyone assumes Harry has become a Death Eater, because of your dad's reaction. But I think there must be another explanation. He wouldn't do something like that, would he, and even though Ron says he's talking to Draco Malfoy more often -.'

'He's chummy with Malfoy now?' Daniel had sat up in his chair and was frowning furiously. Hermione was _wrong_. After hearing what had happened, Daniel knew there could be only one explanation. He and his dad had discussed Harry before, and James had said that if Harry ever did something this drastic, he wouldn't think of him as a son any more.

His own brother, his twin brother, was a Death Eater. Despite the pureblood prejudice and hate and killing that Voldemort stood for , despite the fact – and this affected Daniel more than any other aspect of it – that Voldemort had tried to murder him, Daniel, twice. And Harry was his twin brother for crying out loud.

'I'll kill him,' he said. Still reeling from the feeling of shock and betrayal, he got up, crossed the Hall, just barely restrained himself from cursing his brother, and headed up to Sirius' office. He had to talk to his father.

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Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place at nine o'clock Friday night. The past week had not been good for him. Aside from the jeers and dirty looks from Gryffindors, he'd also had to endure an increase in attention from his own house. This was unwanted, mainly because it reminded Harry of what Dumbledore had said to him. _I'm not doing this for recognition_, he told himself, _I'm not like my brother, I don't want respect and awe._ _I'm doing this because my conscience tells me to._ But he wasn't sure whether he believed himself.

The door to 12 Grimmauld Place swung abruptly open and Regulus appeared. The Black ancestral house was a cheery place. As soon as Harry crossed the threshold he awoke a portrait of an old woman. She seemed to recognise him and started screaming curses about her 'traitor son' and the 'filthy Potters'. Harry supposed she'd met his father – this was the Black house after all and by extension where Sirius had grown up, however weird that seemed.

Regulus, ignoring the portrait, ushered him down a hallway and into a neat, if a little drab, parlour. There were several pictures on the wall, one was of a thick, worm-like snake which had curled itself round someone's house, the other was of a giant wicker man, hollow and on fire, and filled with squirming people whose cries were drowned out by the flickering of flames.

Regulus offered Harry a slice of plum cake, then some overbrewed tea. Harry had not seen him without his mask, but he looked like a typical Black, with a handsome face, clear brown eyes, and a mane of dark hair.

'You look like Sirius.'

Regulus scowled like he'd heard that before and was sick of it. 'How is my benighted brother, by the way?'

Harry shrugged.

'_You_ look like James. Anyway, let's not waste time.'

He waved his wand and the doors of the room shut firmly. He probably cast a heavy silencing spell too, judging by the slight tang to the air.

'I would not have asked you here if I didn't trust you. So, you want to know why?'

Harry nodded.

'I was very interested in the Dark Arts and immortality. That's why I joined. I must have been about your age. Anyway, by some determination, and a lot of pure luck, I discovered his secret.

Through my own research I'd come across Horcruxes. I had no idea what they were, but I suspected that they were extremely important, and took a chance one night as he looked into my mind. I let him see the word 'Horcrux' and all my memories of my research into it. However, it worked much better than I anticipated. He lost control, if for one split-second only, and I saw enough of his thoughts and memories to lead me on the right track.'

Regulus explained to a curious and slightly disgusted Harry what Horcruxes were, what his research had involved, and how Horcruxes were connected to the Dark Lord. Harry felt he comprehended for the first time just why Voldemort was titled the Dark Lord. The Horcruxes weren't just Dark, they were evil. Nonetheless, Harry couldn't help but understand Voldemort's motives – deathlessness was appealing.

'Unfortunately, after that, the Dark Lord kept me very close indeed. He didn't trust me, because of what I saw. I was unable to look for the Horcruxes and worse, when he fell, I was forced to go on the run.'

He smiled in a small, cold way.

'I have been a fugitive for most of your life, Harry, and nearly half of mine. However, in these past years I have been able to start my research again. He is too preoccupied with Daniel Potter and his own rising power to regard a simple servant as a great threat again. The Ministry likewise does not have the time to pursue yet another loose Death Eater like me. Now is the time to act.'

He and Harry talked for a long while on what they would do. Regulus was almost certain the Horcruxes would have something to do with his past, possibly Hogwarts, and that there would be seven of them. The Dark Lord liked to do things properly, magic most of all. Regulus was on the trail of a ring and Harry would do his best to discover what and where another Horcrux was.

'I know about his past.' Regulus paused. 'Some of it. It is a great secret. You have no doubt heard the tales about him: Slytherin's heir, successful and powerful in his school years, the most talented wizard of his generation.'

Harry nodded; it was standard fare in Slytherin House.

'You probably have not heard that he is a Half-blood. He killed his father. You probably do not know this man was a Muggle. I presume you would not have heard that his name was not always Lord Voldemort, or even just Voldemort. It was originally Tom Riddle. I have some of his memories – flashes – from that night when he slipped. He looked a little bit like you. Normal. I would watch out Harry. If he sees anything of himself in you, he will mistrust you. You're a Half-blood, your mother is dead, and you're in Slytherin, so this is most likely.'

Harry mumbled that he'd think about it, but he privately disagreed that Voldemort would take any trouble over him. It was Daniel he was after.

Without warning a fire sprung up in the room's fireplace. Regulus brushed a hand across his face in annoyance. 'Another guest.' He motioned for Harry to stand directly beside the fireplace where he would not be visible to the visitor.

The flames turned green, and a woman's face appeared in their depths. She was quite good-looking, but her cheeks were hollow, and her eyes hooded. Harry had never seen her before, but he guessed who she was.

'There aren't any curses on the hearth for me to step into?' she said.

'Well, as a matter of fact, there are. You better get out while I remove them.'

She vanished, as did the fire. 'My cousin,' Regulus explained. 'You better go, before she returns.'

'Okay. Look, I'll meet you if I've got any news,' Harry said. He turned and hurried out of the room and down the hallway. The house's heavy door glided obediently open. Harry stepped past the threshold, then whirled into thin air, Disapparating back to the Forbidden Forest where he'd come from.

A second later, a dark figure, who had been lurking a little way down the street, detached himself from the shadows and likewise Apparated away. Perhaps twenty minutes later he was standing opposite a blonde man, who looked like a somewhat older and more cynical version of himself.

'What is it Draco?'

'I was watching Potter. He left the castle like you said.'

Malfoy senior gave him a triumphant look.

'But Father, I don't think he's a traitor to Voldemort. He went to Regulus Black's house.'

Lucius Malfoy's eyebrows sprung up, but he didn't appear discomposed as he said, 'That is very interesting. It seems Potter's actions are more calculated than I gave him credit for.'

'What do you mean?' said Draco, who could not for the life of him understand why Harry had gone to see Regulus.

'It's obvious, Draco. They seek an alliance. They are scheming to gain his favour, either alone or,' (his eyes narrowed), 'with Crouch's lot.'

'Are you convinced th– ?'

'Inextricably so. Why else would they meet without informing any of us? Bellatrix sees Regulus regularly; he should have told her. But he didn't. He and Potter are planning something on their own. We cannot allow them or anyone else to snatch influence from us. Draco, you watch Potter. I will be keeping an eye on Regulus.'

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	10. Chapter 10

A/N (yes, at the top, annoying as it is you can skip it): Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou for the reviews. I hope this story is somewhat entertaining to you.

Apologies for not posting on the weekend like I meant to, nice and regular. And it's only one chapter not two like I prefer, though it is longer. This is down to the fact that a) I have my yearly exams this week and next, and b) I thought of a rather exciting non-fanfic story idea which I am preoccupied with.

The story jumps ahead **a lot** in this chapter, because I want to get where I wanted to get to. The Malfoy plot line will be followed later. Harry hasn't done **anything **much in terms of spying/horcruxes, because he is not in a very likely position to do so, stuck at Hogwarts. Regulus is doing all the work (though they will go Horcrux-hunting in a little while I hope).

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Regulus had not explained to Harry _why_ or when he had become so determined to bring Voldemort down. But Harry understood. He was beginning to feel the same way, as Malfoy and the other Death Eater Slytherins gave him shifty looks now and then in class. When a teacher mentioned You-know-who, they would all keep their eyes on their desks, smirking slightly. Harry couldn't stand it. He wished that he wasn't one of them. The worst was when he heard of a Death Eater murder or kidnapping. Every time he would remember that Muggle he'd tortured and wondered if these latest victims weren't just as human. But of course they were, and often times murdered in cold blood too, and the fact that he might almost have done it himself, or might be forced to, was repugnant.

The previous night, The Headmaster's Office 

'Sirius.' Daniel panted, bursting into the room. He noticed another man standing by his godfather's desk. 'Mr Dumbledore.'

Sirius appeared concerned, but not surprised. He guessed easily what was bothering Daniel. 'Daniel, I'm sure he has good reasons. He doesn't support You-know-who any more than you do.'

Daniel merely glared. 'So you were in on it too?'

'It wasn't like that.'

'How can you say that? He's a bloody Death Eater! No one does that sort of thing unless they mean it. You trust him, you think he's -.'

'Daniel,' cut in the older, white-bearded wizard. 'I think you should calm down. You don't really feel that way about your brother and I'm sure if -.'

'I do. I hate him.'

Sirius pressed his lips together worriedly. 'Well, you'll just have to get over it. You can hate him all you want, but I won't let you explode and curse him in the corridors.'

'Oh yeah?' Daniel snapped, defiant.

'Yes, Mr Potter. You see, I have a friend,' (Dumbledore glanced at Daniel, to ensure he was not about to erupt again, then continued), 'He was most unwilling to come here, to take upon himself the responsibilities of Potions Master. But I persuaded him. I convinced him that it would be necessary for the war effort, and he agreed.'

'You can't mean Snape,' Daniel said, voice full of contempt.

'Oh I do. He was furious when he Flooed me last night to tell me that you had, again, missed your Occlumency lesson.'

Daniel bit his lip, not in shame, but anger. 'What do you expect? I only just recovered from being poisoned. And, to make me have lessons with that slimy git – you're mad.'

Dumbledore frowned slightly. 'Mr Potter, do you remember the conversation we had a year ago?'

'No,' said Daniel, not quite managing to pull off the lie.

'About the prophecy?' elucidated Dumbledore.

Daniel turned his gaze to the floor. He sighed, and his whole body heaved with barely controlled emotion. 'Yes,' he said shortly.

'You know that you can be our only chance?'

Sirius stared at the two. He'd heard a faint inkling of the prophecy concerning Daniel Potter, he hadn't known very clearly what it involved.

'Mr Potter, answer me.'

'Yes.' Daniel scraped his hands through his hair, then looked up to meet Dumbledore's eyes. 'Yes sir. I do. I'm – I'm sorry.'

Dumbledore looked satisfied.

'Then I may now do what I came here to do. Sirius, will you please excuse us?'

Sirius gave Dumbledore a questioning glance, which the older man politely ignored, and quietly exited his own office.

'Good. Now, Mr Potter, since Professor Slughorn was cajoled into taking the Defence position last year, I have often tried to worm a certain memory out of him, but even when tied down in one place, he still managed to avoid me. Finally, this Monday, I met success.'

Dumbledore indicated a Pensieve which Daniel had never seen in this office before, and gestured for him to enter it. 'You first.'

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Time passed. James Potter went missing during a Ministry raid. Daniel was horrified when he found out but his father's disappearance finally gave him the necessary motivation to apply himself in his Occlumency lessons with Snape. The vivid nightmares he'd been having were also an incentive.

Harry Potter found out about his father's disappearance second-hand. He was infuriated, and went to Sirius.

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'Tell you what?' Sirius looked older than usual, and somehow haggard. 'Oh… about that. I'm sorry, I just assumed someone else already had.'

'Who? You're not talking about _Daniel_? I can barely go near him without him trying to curse me.'

Sirius glanced down at his fingers, crisscrossed together, then looked up again. He was angry.

'You weren't exactly on the best of terms with James, were you? Harry, why tell you when you probably don't particularly _care_?'

'Of course I care!' Harry exclaimed. 'That's the whole point. It's worse this way. He's dead, and I'll never be able to make up with him. I told him I hated him. That was the last time I saw him, and now he's gone.'

'He might not be gone. Don't talk like that.'

'Missing is always dead. Unless you're a Death Eater. So, it's pretty obvious he's dead.'

With that, Harry, dry-eyed, but shaking with anger and grief, left Sirius alone. He was upset about his father's demise. It hurt that he'd never been able to prove himself to the man, and that James had died still thinking lowly of him. But it wasn't just that – even if Harry didn't adore him, James was still loved by Sirius and Daniel and that witch he'd started seeing, and now he was dead, yet another of Dark Lord's victims. Harry wondered when someone would finally put an end to him. No one seemed to be doing much, not the Ministry, not Dumbledore. They didn't even know about the Horcruxes, so if they did do something, it would have been near futile anyway.

Harry's morale was also low because he'd had trouble finding _anything_ to do with Horcruxes or the Hogwarts Founders. All his leads, all his ideas, had dwindled to nothing, and Regulus too sounded like he was having difficulty coming up with anything tangible.

However, that changed completely when Regulus invited Harry to visit him one Saturday over the Christmas holidays. He showed Harry into his sitting room, sat down, produced a small golden cup and waited calmly for Harry to react.

'Solid gold,' Harry said, curious, 'and with a badger engraved on it. It isn't –?'

'It is.' Regulus Black lifted the cup up and turned it round in his hands, a slightly complacent expression on his face. He didn't smile.

'Where did you find it?'

'In a marsh in East Anglia.' Regulus rubbed his shoulder, grimacing with pain. 'It was not pleasant. I believe it is where the Dark Lord first employed his Dark Mark. It was an important gathering; he killed a man as part of the ceremony. I suppose that isn't really surprising. He'd been away from the country a long time, and he wanted to make an entrance.

'I'd heard about this from my great uncle before he died, as he was one of the Death Eaters, but I didn't find the location until I discovered an article about an odd will o' the wisp above the swamp in a local Muggle newspaper. They said it looked like a skull.'

Harry nodded, taking this in. 'Who was the man they killed?'

'The Minister for Magic at the time – he was the second Muggleborn Minister in history.'

'You didn't have difficulty getting it?' Harry indicated Regulus' shoulder with concern. 'You aren't hurt?'

'Nothing that I can't live with. Anyway, I might have a chance to destroy it in the next few weeks.'

Regulus permitted himself a small, rather evil grin – unusual in the habitually grim man. Harry waited, interested, for him to explain. The way – the foolproof way – to destroy a Horcrux was to use a simple Killing Curse. Nothing would block it, and it would dispatch the piece of the Dark Lord's soul with ease. But unfortunately, there were side-effects. The Horcruxes would doubtless have deadly curses bound to them, which would be released when they were destroyed.

But Regulus Black simply kept his lips tightly together, and would not say where or how this opportunity would arise.

'I am not sure of it myself,' he said as he and Harry parted for the same place – a Death Eater, gathering. Regulus rubbed his Mark as if the burning was no more than an itch. 'It's just based on a story, a nothing. You'll find out if it comes to fruition in the end.'

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Severus was especially irritable in his sixth year Potions class the next morning. He'd just seen the Dark Lord last night, and it hadn't gone well at all, and now Daniel Potter was being his usual infuriating self. The boy had no natural talent in Potions, but had somehow scraped an Owl, and that and his godfather's support had been enough to get him into Potions. It wouldn't necessarily keep him there, Severus thought vindictively.

Potter, back to Snape, was talking to Granger and barely paying any attention to his simmering cauldron. There was going to be an accident. Severus strolled over, ready to be in the right place to take points when something went wrong with Potter's sleeping draught.

'… tell Dumbledore,' he heard Granger say. Severus moved imperceptibly closer, casting a quick spell to improve his hearing. What were they talking about?

Potter haphazardly tossed some dehydrated Hydra necks into the cauldron, then said, 'I've tried to once already. It's really hard to reach him, and Sirius doesn't think it's a big deal, cause he doesn't really know about my scar or the dreams. Only dad did.'

Severus scowled. The stupid boy _still_ wasn't Occluding before he went to sleep.

'But are you sure?' Granger, ever cautious, was asking. 'I mean if we were wrong and we went to D –.'

'Yeah I'm sure – I mean, where else could it be? It's definitely the Ministry. The Department of Mysteries, probably.'

Severus decided he'd heard enough, as Potter's potion was frothing and increasingly unstable. He retreated back a few desks, and wondered how exactly the boy had got hold of _that_ particular piece of information. He'd been neglecting to Occlude his mind, as usual, but how had he known that it was the Ministry he saw? Had his brother perhaps told him? No, the two had been looking daggers at each other for a month now, and Harry might not even know. And James, who ordinarily would have told the brat everything, was missing.

He glanced over at the other Potter boy. Harry had finished his sleeping draught and was calmly reading a book. Draco, at the next table, appeared to be doing his homework, but was actually trying to see what Potter was reading. Draco had been giving Potter oddly nasty looks lately. It was interesting and a little worrying. Did he suspect Potter of spying? No, of course not; the Order would know if it were that. It must be something else then, a petty rivalry for a girl perhaps.

Severus, feeling a pang of curiosity, said, 'Show me that book, Potter.'

Potter reluctantly exposed the cover. Severus read the title out, '_Rowena Ravenclaw: Thinker, Teacher, Founder._ If you're so interested, Potter, why didn't you become a Ravenclaw? Didn't have enough intelligence?'

'No,' said Harry in a low voice. 'I had too much. I'm in _Slytherin_, sir – your house.'

And then Daniel Potter's potion exploded. Little yellow globs of it rained down on the classroom and some of the students. The quicker students managed to dive under tables and Snape noticed that Draco and Harry, well out of range, had not even looked up. Five years of Potions with Neville Longbottom would do that.

Snape took stock of those who had got the worst of the failed potion (unfortunately not Potter and his friends) and escorted them up to the Hospital Wing. He debated with himself whether he should punish Potter now or later, but decided that he'd wait until later. The boy would have his hopes up of getting away with it and he'd be able to quash them, always a satisfying feeling.

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The minute Snape left the room Daniel turned on Harry.

'What did you do that for?'

'Do what?'

'You were over near my potion five minutes ago.'

'So? That was five minutes ago.'

'You must have put something in.'

'Why would I do that?'

'The same reason you joined _him_.'

The room fell silent at Daniel's last comment. He had gone a step too far, and the students watched with nervous anticipation. Harry struggled to control himself, to put his mind under the calming blanket of Occlumency. 'I didn't do anything to your potion, Daniel. I was just getting some aconite.'

'Sure you were. You've done this sort of thing before.'

'I think you're confusing me with Draco,' Harry said coldly. 'At least get your facts straight.'

At that moment Daniel, overflowing with frustration – someone had been trying to kill him the past few months after all–, shot a curse at Harry, who replied in kind. There was a brief flurry of hexes. Harry, backing out of the way of a Leg Locker curse, stumbled over one of the tables. This gave Daniel the chance to hit Harry with an Impedimenta and gain the upper hand.

Harry glanced up and met Daniel's eyes. He read his brother's intentions clearly from his mind. The Impedimenta wearing out, Harry threw himself to the ground just in time. Daniel's cutting curse flew over his head. Harry was able to fire off a couple of wordless hexes before he rolled out of the way of another powerful curse from his brother.

Daniel was powerful, Harry had to concede that, and he was having a bad time out of it. His body was aching from all the drops and curses he'd endured and he was finding himself unable to get a spell in edgewise. _Calm down_, he told himself. _You have plenty of advantage over him. Get him worked up._

'I can forsee everything you're about to do,' he said, with that express purpose in mind. He blocked Daniel's next curse with a Mirror Charm, and it bounced off and smashed some glassware on Snape's desk. 'You know how? You can't Occlude. You almost _broadcast_ your thoughts for everyone to see. Fat chance you'll have against the Dark Lord -.'

'Shut up!' Daniel, furious, shot another hex at him and missed badly, almost hitting Draco.

'I'm only telling the truth. If you can't Occlude, that's your problem. Oh, you're about to cast a Stunning…' Harry broke off to concentrate on shielding himself. It wasn't actually true that he saw everything Daniel was about to do though Legillimency, it had been mainly a bluff, but he'd touched a sore point. Things started to go his way, and when Snape burst back into the room, Harry was on the brink of disarming Daniel.

'I would refrain from getting involved,' said Snape as the room went still and the two duellers looked at him with horror. 'In fact, you can attack each other as often and as severely as you like as far as I'm concerned. But not in my Potions classroom, and _not_ when you damage valuable potions.'

He pointed to the shattered glass on his desk.

'That cannot be used, as it is now contaminated with dust. Who was the instigator of this fight?'

'Potter,' someone said, sniggering. Snape glared at this and fixed his dark eyes on Daniel. 'Well?' he prompted.

'It was Harry. He put something in my potion and so I -.'

'So it was you. Fifty points from Gryffindor for flagrant violation of school rules. Mr Potter,' He turned to Harry, making it clear who he was talking to. 'I understand it was self-defence on your part, so you will not have to share your brother's six weeks of detention.'

'Six weeks?' Daniel said, his voice high with disbelief.

'Every Monday, Tuesday and Friday.'

'But that's when Quidditch training -.'

'What an unfortunate coincidence. If you weren't such an arrogant fool, you'd think twice next time you're tempted to ruin a potion and start a fight. Wouldn't you, Potter?'

Snape, despite never having taught before this year, was clearly relishing it.

The rest of the day passed in agonising stops and starts. Lunchtime, in which Harry found a possibly useful chapter on a necklace belonging to Rowena Ravenclaw, shot by, whereas the particularly dull Transfiguration double dragged on for what seemed like days. Finally it finished, and Harry went down to the grounds in order to get some fresh air. Annoyingly, Draco came too.

Draco had been much too inquisitive of late. When they'd come back from the Christmas holidays, Harry remembered being asked by the pale boy whether he was interested in anyone.

'In what way?'

'As a girlfriend, Harry. Honestly, what did you think I meant?'

Harry stared at him. A girlfriend was the last thing on his mind at this time. He'd expected Draco to want to talk about the Dementor defection, or the Death Eaters who'd escaped from Azkaban over the holidays. For a moment he was too surprised to answer, then he said quite nastily, 'No. And, sorry to disappoint you, but I am most definitely not interested in _you_, Draco, so run off and leave me alone.'

Draco, instead of being offended, pressed on, 'Are you going out with someone already?'

'_No_.'

And then there was that day three weeks ago when he'd caught Draco trying to follow him. He'd been leaving the school to meet with Regulus, and he'd had a feeling of being watched. He'd taken a few sharp turns and ducked into a side corridor and when he'd looked back round the corner, he'd seen Draco. After that he'd been careful to check that he wasn't being tailed, and warned Regulus to do the same. He hoped Draco didn't know too much.

Now, crossing the snow-shrouded, deserted grounds of the castle, he watched Draco out of the corner of his eyes. Did he think – did he think Harry was a spy? Draco was a good Occlumens, and Harry wasn't a good enough Legillimens to tell what he was thinking. One thing was for sure: Draco didn't trust him.

As they came up to the Great Lake, an owl screeched and catapulted down on them from the sky. Harry flinched and held up his arms to protect his face and the owl landed heavily on them, clawing into his robes. It pecked at him urgently until he took its letter, then leapt back up into the air and away.

Harry scowled after it. What if he wanted to send a reply? But glancing down at the envelope, his irritation completely disappeared, and was replaced with a deep feeling of satisfaction and excitement. The seal of the letter was a snake, underneath a crossed sword and lightening bolt. This was a symbol they'd agreed on before: the meaning was clear. Regulus had found another Horcrux.

Harry thrust the letter in his pocket, not caring if it got crumpled.

'Aren't you going to read it?' Draco demanded the instant Harry put it away.

'No. I think I probably know what it is already. I've been getting nasty letters for ages now, ever since my dad disappeared, maybe before then. It probably has a hex.'

Then he started telling Draco about an idea for a curse he'd had, the return-to-sender hex. This was complete fabrication. He was always lying these days, and while in the past he'd found it diverting to create a good story, he just found it tiring now. 'No, I swear. It's for real… The charm is 'Renvoya'. You've got to wave your wand the right way to make it work, though.'

In the end, he achieved his goal, and Draco was sufficiently distracted not to inquire further about the letter. They had dinner, did homework, and went to bed. Harry lay awake a long time before he could sleep properly.

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That night, Ron was woken up by Daniel screaming. He struggled out from under his sheets and was at his friend's bedside in moments. He knew how serious Daniel's dreams were and shook his friend out of the nightmare, his own hands trembling.

'What it is?'

Daniel stared up at him, but it seemed his eyes were out of focus, like he was looking at something that wasn't in the room.

'My father… I saw him. He's in the Department of Mysteries, tied up. They have him!'

Daniel broke off with a sharp cry and gripped his head where his scar was.

'We have to go.'

'Let's get Sirius first, and I suppose Hermione and the others will want to come,' Ron warned.

Daniel, his face pale, his forehead drenched in cold sweat, did not reply. He gripped his wand and headed out the Dormitory door, one thing on his mind.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N. What can I say? I haven't updated for ages. I had some excuse at the start (yearly exams) but after that I really should have cracked down and gotten it done. I better get it done before the seventh and ultimate book comes out. So, sorry, and if anyone is still interested in reading…

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Chapter 10

Daniel wanted to kick himself for letting it turn out this way. It was not just him. It was not even just him, Ron, and Hermione. Neville and Ginny had come, Luna too, who was one of Ginny's Ravenclaw friends, as well as a boy who was probably her boyfriend. In short, there were too many of them, and even with Sirius who had insisted on coming after sending out his Patronus to inform the Order, Daniel still felt like they were underprepared. Neville couldn't even hold his bloody wand straight, and Luna was away with the fairies most of the time. If they got killed, then Daniel would feel no small remorse.

He swore to himself and tried to keep up with Sirius as they pounded down the Ministry corridors.

'Dumbledore should be here,' he was saying. 'He's head of the Wizengamot, for crying out loud, and the Minister always wants him on hand to give advice.'

'Yes,' said Daniel. He didn't much feel like talking.

'I mean,' continued Sirius, 'lately he's been disappearing all the time. Off on various excursions… I hope they're important, because – Fu-Merlin.'

He stopped and bent down. Daniel couldn't tell what he was doing, and the others felt the same way, judging by their expressions. They were standing a little way from a door in a stretch of empty corridor. It was, Daniel realised with a jolt of fear, the corridor that had been in his dreams quite often. They were nearly there. But before he could dwell on this, his attention was distracted by a sudden jerky movement on Sirius' part.

One moment there was nothing, the next he was holding an invisibility cloak. A body, barely identifiable due to the cuts that lacerated it, lay at his feet. Daniel gulped and looked away.

'Who was it?' he said.

'Don't know. Too hard to tell. We'll find out later, I suppose.'

If they survived, of course, Daniel couldn't help adding in his mind. What had he got himself into? Was he really ready for it? But it was his father, he had to, he couldn't just lie in bed at Hogwarts and do nothing. And he followed Sirius across the threshold of the Department of Mysteries.

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The boy looked pale, terrified. It was no effort to smirk, it was almost easy to forget that _this_ was the boy who had once defeated the Dark Lord. Lucius gripped his wand harder and repeated himself:

'Why don't you give me the Prophecy, Daniel? Your father will live if you cooperate.' Naturally he wouldn't; MacNair had orders to keep his wand trained on the Head Auror and to kill him if he tried anything. But now they needed him alive. Potter had to cooperate; no one else could take the Prophecy from its shelf, excepting the Dark Lord, and James Potter was an invaluable bargaining tool.

Daniel looked at his father. Lucius held his tongue, knowing that the wisest course now was to wait. Let the brat take it all in: his father's continued survival, his cuts and bruises, the marks of torture, his ragged clothes and hair. James Potter was dull-eyed, much as Bellatrix had been when she had come out of Azkaban. He looked similarly half-dead and, without medical attention, it was clear he wouldn't last another day. That ought to tug at the boy's heartstrings, that ought to make him want to give up the Prophecy.

'Don't give in,' rasped James Potter, before Lucius could stop him. 'They'll kill both of us anyway. Don't let them, don't give them any advantage.'

Lucius shot a Silencing Spell at the man, and he wasn't the only one who had that thought. An array of curses, some more permanently silencing than others, hit the spot where James Potter was – no, _had been_. The man had rolled out of the way, starved and injured though he was. Lucius at this point wanted to strangle MacNair, who was supposed to prevent this sort of thing from happening. But he didn't have time.

All he could do was duck out of the way as Daniel Potter and his friends unleashed a torrent of curses on them. He had enough time to respond with a couple of Killing curses, then duck out of the way. James Potter had somehow acquired a wand in this space of time, likely from one of the fallen Death Eaters.

Lucius gritted his teeth. 'Spread out, you fools, don't give them an easy target!'

Despite the Potters' heroics, they were still badly outnumbered. And, prolifically skilled as he was, James Potter was the only one who knew how to use a wand. Black was caught up duelling Bellatrix in an antechamber, and Potter's schoolmates didn't look worth much in a fight.

Lucius fired off a Cutting Curse, and hit one of the students. But at that stage, Potter senior must have realised that he was at a significant disadvantage. Lucius heard him and his son – pathetic that, as if the boy knew _anything_ – calling 'Fall back! Fall back!'

Then they were all running from the room, sending shelves of prophecies crashing down. Lucius noted with relief that Daniel was holding the prophecy. That made his mission a little easier. One of the Death Eaters slipped and fell, cutting themselves badly on the glass, and making a bloody mess on the floor. Lucius stepped neatly over him, somewhat pleased to see it was MacNair, then focused on the pursuit again.

'Follow them!' he yelled. 'Can't you see? Potter's got the prophecy!'

He felt almost happy. There was only James Potter and Black, and Bellatrix would at least keep the latter busy if she didn't manage to kill him. All that remained was a bunch of school children between him and the glass ball his master so wanted. He raised his wand, and picked up the pace, pleased to see that Regulus was keeping up with him. The man had leapt at the dangerous mission at the Ministry when asked. No matter that he was a wanted man, that not even the Dark Lord wanted to risk himself in the heart of the Ministry.

He burst through the door, through a room of clocks, then another doorway, and found himself in the Amphitheatre. The place was quickly filling with Aurors. Lucius frowned briefly, ignored the anger that was seething in his chest, and cast a particularly nasty hex.

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Daniel screamed. He wasn't under the Cruciatus Curse, but it sounded like it. He was in the Ampitheatre, the room with the strange black veil in the centre. All around him Order members and Death Eaters battled fiercely. He dodged a curse, Quidditch-honed reflexes meaning he didn't even have to think to do it. Near to him sat Neville, nursing a broken arm and fighting off a lingering Jelly Legs Curse. Across the room he could see Lupin and his father fighting back-to-back. A Death Eater stood in the centre near the veil, and, with a smooth movement, seemed to throw something through it. It didn't come out the other side.

Daniel tried not to look at the other side, the far side of the veil, where a woman stood. He'd seen her a second before; he didn't want to look again. But he did. She held in her hand, high, so everyone could see it, a human head. Daniel knew, even from this distance, that it was Sirius'. She had killed him a half-second before, then chopped off his head, delighting in the Aurors' and Order members' reactions. And Daniel's reaction too.

She was not wearing Death Eater robes, nor was she masked. She was Bellatrix Lestrange, for all the world to see, and running down her white arm was her cousin's lifeblood. Daniel forgot Neville. He forgot the prophecy in his hand. He forgot everything but the fact that his godfather was dead. He rose and came at her, blasting through the intervening Death Eaters. She saw him coming, bowed mockingly, and dropped Sirius' head.

'Scared are you?' Daniel demanded. 'Too cowardly to face me?'

But no: Lucius Malfoy was calling out at the top of his voice, that it was time to leave. Bellatrix smiled at Daniel, then ignored him as if he were a little child. She jumped up the tiers two-by-two and sprinted out the door. Daniel followed. He almost hit her with a Cruciatus, but the spell missed, and soon it was all he could do to keep up and avoid her curses.

He skidded on smooth marble, and found himself in the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. He dived to the floor to avoid a Crucio from Bellatrix, then scrambled up to attack.

And found himself facing Voldemort, for the third time in his life. He barely had time to dive behind some statues and avoid a Killing Curse lanced his way.

'Give me that prophecy, and it'll be all right for you, boy,' Voldemort said.

No, it wouldn't be all right. Daniel knew what the Prophecy contained. Dumbledore had told him a few years ago, when Voldemort had first returned. Up to then, he'd enjoyed being The-boy-who-lived, the one who had defeated You-know-who. But when he'd found out what that entailed, he wished he were in Harry's place instead, even if that meant being a Parselmouth, and having other unsavoury characteristics.

He faced Voldemort, clutched the prophecy tighter, then dived into one of the Ministry lifts. It was a pretty stupid plan, he thought, as he punched, waved his wand, and willed the doors to close. But amazingly it worked.

There was a soft musical chord, and the lift began ascending. Then there was a quiver, and a jolt, and the lift sunk down again. The doors came open, as if they were as light as window curtains, and Daniel met Voldemort's glaring red eyes over the threshold.

For an instant he felt strange, like he was at the bottom of a great pit, with a huge, evil creature coiled around him. He tried to struggle, but there was no use. It was crushing the life out of him. He should try Occlumency, he knew, but all he could do was struggle, and thrash, and his movements became weaker. He felt himself sinking deeper.

But then there was a loosening, and he was stumbling back. Voldemort looked at him with his inhuman face set in what might have been loathing, then reached forward for the prophecy. Which a second later shot out of Daniel's hands, away from him, and away from Voldemort. Voldemort turned, or rather one instant he was facing one way, the next he was half a metre away facing the other.

'Dumbledore,' he said, acknowledging the elderly man standing at the opposite end of the room.

There was a brief flurry of curses, but Dumbledore emerged with life and prophecy intact. Voldemort, however, was not put out. He looked calculatingly at the Aurors and Ministry members pouring into the room, then addressed Dumbledore, a mirthless smile on his lips and in his words, 'I can't say you look well, Albus.'

This was true. Dumbledore appeared very grim and pale, ill-looking even. He had done well to escape the duel unharmed.

'I want you to know,' (he nodded mockingly to the bystanders), 'that as I grow in strength, you Dumbledore, you and your Order, only _weaken_. You may try to hide the contents of that prophecy from me, but I will eventually know, or not _need_ to know.'

Then he turned tail and Disapparated.

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Harry got up in good spirits, still feeling content at the news he'd received from Regulus yesterday. He got dressed, checked that his school books were in order, and went to the Great Hall to take an early breakfast. Surprisingly – or perhaps not so much so, the boy was always following him of late – Draco was already there, bent over the morning paper. He folded it up and put it away as Harry approached.

'Good morning, isn't it?' he commented.

'Yes,' said Harry. He got himself some toast and began buttering it. 'I was just thinking… about what to do after I leave school.'

'Ah yes?'

'I mean, usually it's just get a job at the Ministry, or at Gringotts, or start a business – that sort of thing. But it'll be different, won't it? If he's in charge, we'll be important, won't we? And there won't be any purpose for the Ministry of Magic. All it does is just regulate us and magical creatures, and keep it all a secret from the Muggles… and he doesn't exactly plan on doing that, does he?'

'No.' Draco sounded amused. 'What are you getting at?'

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know.' He did know, in fact. The whole point of this conversation, one he'd rehearsed in his mind several times already, was to get Draco to talk about the Dark Lord's education. Draco was, after all, much better placed to know things than Harry.

'What did he do?' Harry said suddenly.

'Who?'

'You-know-who, after he left school. They say he went overseas.'

'Oh, northern Europe, eastern Europe. Somewhere.'

'It's just, wouldn't it be great, to do something like that?' The ambition in Harry's voice was nothing if not convincing. Perhaps because it was partly real. 'To become a really great wizard, a powerful wizard like him. Do you know where he went exactly?' Harry lowered his voice. 'Or what he did?'

Draco appeared to be more interested now that Harry had mentioned greatness and power. 'Well, I did hear my father say he went to Norway – that's where Durmstrang is meant to be – it's renowned for Dark magic. And I'm sure he spent some time in Romania or Bulgaria; I can't remember which.'

'Where -.'

'Mr Potter.' It was Snape's voice that interrupted him.

Harry turned and glared in annoyance. What did Snape want at this time of morning? It can't have been that important, and now his chance was gone. He would have to ask Draco later and that would make him seem a little too curious.

At Snape's word, he got up and followed him out of the Hall. To his surprise the man didn't think the deserted Entrance private enough to say whatever he wanted to say, even though it was extremely early in the morning. He led Harry out and into the grounds, not stopping until they were a good fifty metres from the castle.

'You must know now, though the school will no doubt be buzzing with it in a few hours.' The professor adopted a hypocritically dour expression. 'Your godfather is dead.'

'Oh, just like my brother was dead,' Harry said. He was past irritated and starting to get angry. Was this some excuse for Snape to harass him with Legillimency again?

'Incontrovertibly dead. _Avada Kedavra_ dead,' Snape continued. He explained roughly what had happened in the Department of Mysteries, and about Harry's idiot brother and father who, unbelievably, were still alive. And about Sirius.

'The nature of his death, I am sorry to tell you, was particularly grisly. She killed him and severed his head. But no matter – he died in a blaze of wasted glory, as he no doubt would have wished.'

Harry was suddenly extremely pissed off. Somewhere he was aware that his father was alive, his father who he'd thought dead, was miraculously alive. But Sirius was gone. Sirius, who, even if he'd favoured Daniel, had always given him more of a chance than his father ever had. And here Snape was, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was pleased.

'You could at least pretend you're not happy he's dead,' Harry said with loathing.

'I won't pretend I didn't dislike Mr Black intensely, but I assure you, that does not mean I am pleased at his death.'

Harry was about to bite back with some insult when he felt a searing sensation in his arm. Not now. _Yes now_. _Of course the Dark Lord wants to call us after his triumph._

'Can you feel that?' he said.

'No,' Snape said irritably.

Harry wanted to shout at him. He was supposed to be consoling him. But Harry forced himself to calm down, to Occlude his mind, and realised that he didn't need to be consoled. At least, not by someone like Snape. 'My mark's burning,' he said. It wasn't till after he'd said it that he realised he'd never confirmed whether Snape was really a Death Eater. Thankfully his suspicions were correct.

'Not here, you fool.'

Harry shrugged. 'Like anyone _doesn't_ know. So your mark's not burning, it's just mine?'

Snape shook his head, and eyed Harry with curiosity. He was definitely a traitor. And he definitely knew that Harry was one too. Harry hoped that he was the only one who knew, and that this meeting would go smoothly. He turned and headed for the gates of the school.

Voldemort was sitting in a red leather and oak chair, with the ease and recumbent power of a king in his throne. He was practically basking in the glory of his recent success. Harry had about a second to take in the fact that they were alone, Voldemort's pleased mood, and the richly furnished room he found himself in.

'Are you pleased at your godfather's death?'

Harry didn't permit himself the time to draw in a breath. Any delay would make Voldemort suspicious.

'Yes… and no,' he said. 'I would have liked to have had the honour of disposing of him myself.'

'Nevermind,' said Voldemort. 'Such things can't be helped. In any case, I did not call you here to discuss the Ministry of Magic. I have just been questioning Lucius.' The dark tone with which he said 'questioning' called to mind a torture session rather than a placid interview. 'Perhaps I pushed him too far. He let slip many secrets I did not care to see, but one interested me. It concerned you and Regulus.'

Harry felt his stomach churning. Voldemort smiled as the shock of the realisation crept across the young man's features.

'Yes, Potter,' he hissed. 'I _know_. Only traitors go behind my back.'

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I expect to update pretty soon (asap, in fact) and shame on me if I don't. I don't really like this chapter at all, I've had most of it written for ages except a couple of paragraphs (which I have rushed, and which are probably dodgy). Also I'm losing track of the horcruxes. If I did ravenclaw's I got that wrong – it's meant to be a wand, isn't it?

Oh yes, and I couldn't remember whether 'lift' is british or american english (I'm australian, how can I tell? Elevator, lift, etc, it's all the same) – if it's not british english, apologies.

I also feel pretty crap that I killed Sirius (how repetitive, esp for AU), but I had to kill someone, and James is more interesting to keep alive.

Sorry for any embarrassing editing mistakes. If you're unimpressed at my characterisation, let me tell you, so am I (and honestly, the pitiful melodrama when Sirius dies, apologies for that too).


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